


Cognitive Inhibition and Attentional Control

by rospeaks



Series: Gavin/900 Sentinel fics [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bisexual Gavin Reed, Bonding, Bottom Gavin Reed, Canon-Typical Violence, Clueless gays, Competence Kink, Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Siblings, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone Thinks They're Together, First Time Blow Jobs, Gavin Reed Backstory, Gay Disaster Gavin Reed, Good Friend Tina Chen, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Masturbation, Miscommunication, Secret Identity, Sentinel/Guide, Sentinel/Guide Bonding, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Tina Chen & Gavin Reed Friendship, Top Upgraded Connor | RK900, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has Feelings, Worldbuilding, bonded sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 47,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24173101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rospeaks/pseuds/rospeaks
Summary: As far as Gavin was concerned, there was nothing good that came of being a Guide or a Sentinel. The way he saw it, if you had to have a status at all, it was better all-around to be a Neutral. Leastwise, if you were a Neutral, you could do whatever you wanted and be whatever you wanted without restrictions.Figuring out he wasn't a Neutral hadn't been easy, but by god, he'd done it.Figuring out how he was going to deal with a Guide as a partner? He'd do that too. Probably.[A Gavin POV companion fic to Overt Orientation. Finished work to be posted on Wednesdays and Fridays.]
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Series: Gavin/900 Sentinel fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744696
Comments: 123
Kudos: 331





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion fic to Overt Orientation, but it's not necessary for you to have read it in order to understand what's going on here. Some of the dialogue will be the same, but it's also limited to Gavin's POV. And he's an idiot. LOL

As far as Gavin was concerned, there was nothing good that came of being a Guide or a Sentinel. The way he saw it, if you had to have a status at all, it was better all-around to be a Neutral. Leastwise, if you were a Neutral, you could do whatever you wanted and be whatever you wanted without restrictions. As a Neutral, you didn't have to depend on another person just to get through the day and you didn't have to be the rock that someone clung to, day in and day out.

There was freedom in being Neutral, but as far as Gavin's dad saw it, freedom was all well and good until you realized you couldn't be any good to anyone without the extra-sensory abilities that came with being a Guide or Sentinel. And if Gavin had any ideas about being anything, he'd better get his mind straight and become a Sentinel like his brother – never mind that it was a genetic predisposition. If Gavin didn't become a Sentinel, well there were only two people who could be held responsible for it, and one of them was dead.

Anyway, conversations like those never ended too well in the Reed household, so Gavin steered clear whenever he could. He held onto the habit so well that by the time he became a cop, it had probably been a good few years since he'd talked to his dad.

**

Figuring out he wasn't a Neutral hadn't been easy.

For one thing, the odds were in favor for his being Neutral. Guides were a pretty rare breed to begin with, and there were way more Sentinels than Guides by a vast margin. But the majority of people were Neutrals – just regular folks that didn't have to mess around with hypersensitivity to anything, whether it was the world itself or the feelings of the people in it. Gavin figured his dad's disappointment had to have a foundation somewhere, and it might as well have been with the fact that there was no way that Gavin Reed was going to be anything other than a Neutral. He was fine with that.

Then there was the official test. Every kid went through the standardized testing by fifteen. Medical theory said that it gave kids a couple years for all the puberty hormones to kick in, get 'em really pumping enough to be found on a blood test. Some kids had already been registered as Sentinels, honestly, because they'd zoned at school or at home or something, but those that hadn't – like Gavin – had to line up in the gymnasium, where a nurse did a pinprick of their fingers and smudged the blood across a test sheet to be taken to a lab later. Everyone got their results over the next month, and Gavin's had come back negative. Not a Sentinel. Not a Guide. Just a regular Neutral.

It had been a little bit of a surprise, honestly. He had been spending the last few months before the test antsy and irritated by everything, whether it was the neighbor's music or his dad's smoking stink or the overwhelmingly salty taste of TV dinners. He'd been worried over nothing, it turned out.

That was the end of that, he figured. It must've just been puberty.

"I'm fine," he told himself. "Nothing to worry about."

Half a year later, he was eating his words. He was _not_ fine. He was going crazy. Sounds were too loud. Smells were too potent. He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't focus on anything. Literally. Like with his eyes.

Teachers were starting to make noises like he might need glasses, since his grades were starting to dip. He got detentions for not paying attention in class after being wholly distracted by the chaotic noise of all the students in the building overlapping in his ears. He got into fights after telling some slob that he stank. Counselors made sad faces when he got pulled in for too many disciplinary actions. They called his dad for parent-teacher meetings and made more sad faces when he didn't show up anyway. Gavin could've told them what he'd say. Probably something about him being a typical teenager, acting out because he wasn't as special as his brother.

_Just give Gavin some tough love_ , he'd say (grudgingly), _and he'll settle down_.

But Gavin wasn’t a complete moron. And he had watched Eli come online in the years previous. He could read billboards halfway across town if he had line of sight. He could hear the neighbors arguing three doors down about money. Neutrals couldn’t do that, and if he were a Guide, he’d probably better at avoiding fights than starting them.

So. He had to be a Sentinel. And there was no way he was going to let his dad find out about it. The last thing he wanted was his dad to look at him and know and think, _finally_ , like it was only now that Gavin was worth a scrap of his attention. He didn't need that shit. He wasn't gonna go out looking for pity.

He should've guessed that he wouldn't be able to hide it from everyone. The school dismissed him as a delinquent and his dad thought he was worthless, but his step-brother, Eli, figured it out in no time at all.

They weren't close by any stretch of the imagination. Two kids from the same dad, sure, but other than a passing resemblance in the hair and being about the same age, they were totally different. Through some complicated family drama, they didn't even share the same last name. But most different of all, Eli was a fucking genius. He was already enrolled in college and looking to graduate in two years instead of four. He had his hands in every robotics project in the city, if you heard him tell it. Add the Sentinel thing on top of it? Gavin wondered how they even shared genes sometimes.

"You losing it," Eli said. "You're gonna snap if you don't get your shit together."

"Yeah? No shit. If you got any tips, I'll take 'em," Gavin said, huffing out an exhausted laugh. He was huddled into the far corner of his bed, hands digging into a pillow. "Don't tell, Dad."

"Why not?"

"He'll be an asshole about it," Gavin told him. His eyes felt hot, and then they felt like they were burning. Jesus, he wasn't going to cry in front of his step-brother. "I don't... I'm more than a fucking Sentinel. He won't get that."

Eli shifted in the doorway. He nodded and left. Gavin sagged and buried his face in the pillow. Eli was gone, and with him, any help that Gavin might have accepted. He was alone with this, but it would be fine. This was just a bad moment. Gavin could get through it. He could do it this time and the next time and the time after that.

An hour passed, maybe. At least, that's what Eli had said when he shook Gavin out of it.

"You zoned," Eli said, looking critically at Gavin all over. "You can't afford to do that if you're going to keep this a secret."

He shoved something into Gavin's hands. It was a goddamn fidget spinner. It lit up with excruciatingly bright, tiny lights when Gavin spun it. Eli also gave him a strip of sandpaper, which Gavin recoiled from like he'd been bitten. Eli forced him to hold it again, and Gavin yelped, feeling like his palm had been scratched to bleeding and then rubbed with salt to boot.

Hissing, he tried to squirm away. "Stop! It hurts, dickhead!"

"Good," Eli said remorselessly. He scrubbed the sandpaper into Gavin's hand more firmly. "If you can make yourself use one sense, it can drown out all the others. You can't let them all go crazy at once. That's how you zone, got it?"

"I got it, I got it!"

Gavin snatched his hand back when Eli let go, cradling it to his chest. He fought for breath, trying to ignore the way his arm was tingling all the way to his shoulder. The sandpaper lay on the edge of the bed, looking innocent there between them.

"Is this how you keep from zoning?" Gavin asked. "I've never seen you."

Eli shrugged. "Among other things."

"You could get a Guide, right?"

Gavin knew Eli was rated as a Level 3 Sentinel. Out of the five levels, a Level 1 was the most common and the easiest to live with being. A single sense dialed up to eleven. That was controllable for nearly anyone. Anything past three senses? The Sentinel was probably catatonic or fucking dead, if they didn’t have a Guide. Level 3 was the sweet spot – high enough to be extraordinary, but not so high that death was the more humane option. Their dad was always talking about the options available to Sentinels that had that high a rating. Guides were one of them; there probably wasn't a Guide out there that wouldn't like the benefits of bonding to the near-guaranteed good fortune that would come with Eli's rating.

"They're probably like, throwing themselves at you..."

"I haven't met any available Guides," Eli told him. "All the ones that I know are already bonded. Most are, you know. I don't have time to wait around for a Guide to look my way, and neither do you. You need control now."

They turned together at the sound of a car door slamming outside. Heavy footfalls and then the sound of the door. Their father's low grumbling sounded like it was right in Gavin's ear. He glanced down at the sandpaper scrap. He winced when he heard the sharp hiss of their dad opening a beer bottle. He couldn't live like this forever, cringing away from the world's every sound and smell and taste.

He slammed his hand atop the sandpaper with so much force that it felt like fire was lancing up his arm. He scrubbed his thumb over its surface so hard that it drew lines of red across his skin. It was the worst pain he'd felt in all his life. Worse than even when he'd broken his arm when he was eleven or when his appendix burst just last year. Sharper and yet just as bone-deep as the growing pains he'd begun having a handful of years ago.

It was so consuming that Gavin jumped when his dad opened the door to his room.

"What's going on in here?" his dad asked.

Eli was quick with a polite smile and a lie. "Gavin was just asking about what it was like to be a Sentinel," he said, slipping out the door.

Sort of a lie. Enough of a lie to cover the truth. Enough of the truth that it made Gavin cringe anyway – more from the way his dad's face swelled with pride than from Eli's words.

"I'm glad you're showing an interest, kid," he said. He glanced in the direction that Eli went and then shuffled awkwardly into the room to sit on the edge of Gavin's bed. "I know it's hard, being a Neutral. You're gonna have to struggle for everything you want. Not like Eli. He's gonna have his ducks lined up just fine for the rest of his life..."

"Dad, Eli's a genius," Gavin said, inwardly groaning at this impromptu pep talk. "His ducks have nothing to do with him being a Sentinel."

"Right, right," his dad said. He seemed to look Gavin up and down then, as if saying with his eyes that _Gavin_ wasn't a genius so what did he have going for him. "Look, I just don't want you to have to fight all the time. Neutrals... that's all we do."

"Sure, I get it." Gavin stared at the only blank part of the opposite wall and rubbed the sandpaper between his fingers. "I'll be fine."

"Of course you will, kid. And I'm sure Eli will always be there to help, too, if you can't come to me."

Gavin's jaw tightened. He ground his teeth together to keep from yelling, managing to say, "I know," without sounding stupidly bitter about it.

His dad hovered for a moment, holding his beer in both hands and picking at the underside of the paper label with a fingernail. Gavin gave him nothing. He focused entirely on the grating pain that came from touching sandpaper. Eventually, his dad picked up and left, trudging downstairs without another word.

**

The next few years saw Gavin figuring his shit out.

Sure, he still had some disciplinary problems at school, but he tapered off slowly, like maybe the teachers would get suspicious if he quit acting out overnight. He zoned almost every day at first, usually on the bus ride home, where it was all noise from the people around him and the flash of sunlight off of car windows and the smell of slightly damp pleather.

But he figured it out, mostly. Remembered which things set him off and learned how to deal with it. Soon, he could go a few days without zoning, then a week, then a month.

It didn't stop entirely though, so he was scared to get his driver's license, until Eli suggested that he might have better control if he wasn't being subjected to so many people all the time. Then, after a few attempts at it under Eli's supervision on a dirt road outside the city, he begged his dad to sign him up for classes. If Eli could handle it, Gavin had reasoned, then so could he. After all, what were the chances that he rated as high as Eli?

He got his license. He passed his classes – barely. He kept his head down and played with the fidget spinner or the sandpaper every time he thought he was getting overwhelmed, which was a lot. He watched as Eli started up his own business, finding a financial backbone for some of his crazy ideas. He graduated by the skin of his teeth and applied for the Detroit Police Academy. He got accepted.

Eli thought he was crazy and naturally told him so, while he was elbow deep in a bunch of wires and plastic at his fancy new work lab. "You're telling me," he said, "that you're going to put yourself in situations where you have to deal with assholes and _guns_ on a daily basis? You're crazy."

"Says the guy who's busy trying to be the next Frankenstein," Gavin argued, gesturing at the vaguely human shape that was taking form on the table between them. "I can do it. I've been all good since February. The class has all types – Sentinels, Guides, _and_ Neutrals. I'll be fine!"

"You'll get caught," Eli countered. "You're going to be surrounded by people trained to look for things that stand out. You slip even once around them, they're gonna get suspicious."

Gavin considered this. "Okay," he demurred. "What do you suggest?"

Eli sighed, spreading his hands out on the table. "You need a Guide."

"Oh come on!" Gavin cried, throwing up his hands. That was the last suggestion he wanted to hear. "You're always going on and on about how Sentinels can't sit around waiting for a Guide to show up. We outnumber them so much that I'd be lucky to hit forty before I met one that's even available. How much longer would I have to wait until one actually wanted to bond with me? You think I wanna put my life on hold until then?"

"What about a few years?" Eli asked.

"What do you mean?"

Eli's expression took on a bright, gleeful look. "What if I could make you a Guide in four years?" At Gavin's incredulous look, he gestured widely at what he was building on the table. "What if no one had to wait for a Guide? What if they could be created, made to order so to speak? There wouldn't be any more unbonded Sentinels going feral on the streets. You could go on with your life, however you pleased. Human Guides wouldn't have to arrange their lives around their Sentinels because they could just send an android in their place. The world would be safer, happier, more harmonious...."

Eli drifted off then, like he was imagining this self-made utopia.

Gavin stared down at what was, to him, just a bundle of wires and plastic paneling. It didn't even have a face yet, though a part of him was morbidly curious what face Eli would give it. He couldn't imagine how this stuff could ever add up to a Guide. How could a fancy computer compare to the emotional grounding that came from another human being? How could a bunch of zeroes and ones make a machine capable of bonding with a human? Guides, as few and precious as they were, couldn't be replicated so easily.

As tempting as Eli's dream was, Gavin couldn't put stock in it. Even a few years seemed like too long.

"I'll be fine," Gavin said. He knocked his knuckles on the table next to what would become an android's arm. "I got things under control. I don't need a Guide. Plenty of Sentinels manage just fine, and I will too."

" _Most_ Sentinels are Level 1," Eli said, frowning.

He seemed worried, so Gavin was quick to reassure him. "Yeah, and just like them, I'll be fine!" he said. "I mean, for you," here, he gestured vaguely at everything that encompassed his step-brother's existence, "having a Guide is more of a necessity, right? But for me, it's like, whatever. I don't need a Guide, and that's okay! I'll get along just fine without one. Just you watch."

Eli was pensive, still frowning, and he stayed silent for so long that it started to grate on Gavin's nerves.

"What, you think I can't?"

"No, that's not what I said."

"But it's what you meant? I can be a cop without using all that Sentinel shit, you know," Gavin ground out. "It's not any different from you working with your robots. Being a Sentinel doesn't make you any smarter about anything. So you can hear and smell and see things other people can't. That's not what makes you a genius, and it won't be what makes me a great cop!"

Eli's gaze softened. "Gavin..."

"Don't give me that pitying look," Gavin snapped.

"I'm not our father," Eli said. "I'm not like your teachers or your counselors. I get it, remember?"

It just made Gavin's hackles rise. "Could've fooled me!"

He stormed off, halfway to the door before seizing control of his temper just long enough to turn back for a moment. He pulled out his wallet, took out a couple twenties, and tossed it toward Eli.

“Here,” he said. “Buy me however many shares that’ll get me in whatever business you make out of this bullshit.” He looked at Eli, standing next to his lab table, surrounded by equipment and computers and a lot of tanks cycling blue liquid. "Good luck with your androids, Elijah. I'm sure you'll do great. You always do." He smiled wryly. "I'll see you around."


	2. Chapter 2

"Elijah Kamski, can you fucking believe it," said Tina.

Gavin was so used to hearing his step-brother's name in other people's mouths that he barely registered it. "What'd he do now?"

"He resigned, is what he did," she said. "I wonder what fucking happened. You think they caught him sexing up his androids?" She waggled her brows at him.

Gavin gagged dramatically, but for a wholly different reason than Tina assumed.

"Oh please, like a sex scandal would be the worst thing a billionaire would get caught doing," Tina said. "I'm sure he wouldn't think of them as anything more than a fancy sex toy."

"That's so not the point," Gavin whined. "He's making them like they're supposed to be Guides, but they're just glorified stun guns with a side of lab tech. If he wanted a sex toy, he could've gotten the same experience using my baton."

"How the fuck would you know," Tina teased. "You taking that baton home for more than just protection these days, Reed?" She laughed at his disgusted face. "Well anyway, it's not like Cyberlife is gonna suffer from the loss. Apparently the government is eager to find out what these androids can be used for. The Department of Justice is already making contract offers for a shit ton."

"Weird," Gavin said. "What do they think they're gonna do, replace everyone in the military with an android? Didn't we already have this fight when we had drones back in the day? Just cause they have faces now doesn't make that any different. Probably makes it worse, actually."

Tina nudged him. "Look at you, thinking deep thoughts. You been reading books or something?"

"Please," Gavin groused. "You know I can't read. But seriously, say they do that. What are all those veterans going to do once they're booted out? And if it works, you think the government is gonna stop at the military? Pretty soon, you'll see them coming into the police force too. We'll be an entire society guarded by robots. I'll be damned before I get replaced by an android."

Tina was barely listening to him. She was flipping through articles on her phone. "Expert theory says," she started off boldly, "that what they actually want to do is supplement the Sentinels in the military with android Guides. There're so few Guides in the military that it's often a ratio of one-to-twenty. Lots of Sentinels means that they can't all be prevented from zoning by a Guide at the same time. It's a risk for everyone, yadda yadda. Volunteer partnering, yadda yadda. Less risk for forced bonding between Sentinels and Guides." Tina set down her phone. "That wouldn't be so bad, you think? Fewer feral Sentinels in the VA can only be good. Plus all that other stuff."

"Or," Gavin stirred his fingers around his fidget spinner, "war starts becoming a crazy efficient process, and Sentinels start signing up for the military just so they can hook up with the next best thing to a human Guide."

"I thought they were just glorified stun guns," she said.

Gavin rolled his eyes. "Whatever, maybe some people like getting shocked in bed. Who doesn't? I'm not here to judge. I just think it's stupid to send baby artificial intelligence programs into war zones. I know it's old as fucking dirt, but hasn't everyone seen the Terminator series?"

"Not everyone's into vintage movies like you, Gav."

"Maybe if they were, they'd realize what a bad fucking idea it is. That's all I'm saying."

"Maybe you should write a letter to your congressman," she said.

"Maybe you should sign up with a recruiter if you think it's so great," Gavin shot back. "Maybe a Guide is written into their signing bonus."

"You just don't get it 'cause you're a Neutral," she said. "You think it's easy, trying to get through life without something to ground you? I have a hard enough time making it through the day doing something I love, and I already have a Guide for a partner. I can't imagine trying to do it under wartime conditions. Military sentinels are tough as shit."

Gavin ducked his head, trying to come off as contrite as well as hide his guilt. Sometimes, he wished he could tell the whole truth to someone. He did understand, was the thing, but his worry about discovery was far greater than his desire for a Guide. As much as he’d griped about the idea of it to Eli’s face, he knew he’d jump at any real chance to get a Guide, but he also knew he was one out of a million stupid motherfuckers who would do the same. Better to let those chances go to someone like Tina, who fucking deserved it for living out and proud and unbonded despite that. Gavin could handle himself.

"Sorry, Teenie," he said. "But if anyone could do it, I'd bet on you."

She kicked him gently under the table. "Suck up. Go get me a coffee."

"You're disgusting and you treat your body like shit," Gavin said, but he went to get the coffee.

**

Gavin Reed became a detective the same year his step-brother resigned, and it was a relief that Eli didn't use his sudden deluge of free time to attend the very small ceremony announcing the various promotions and shufflings within the department, of which Gavin's was one. It had taken a long time for this to happen for him, what with his general lack of respect for authority and his absolute refusal to work with a partner who was a Guide. Fowler was tolerant though, and frankly said that Guides had to be reserved for Sentinels anyway. As long as he was willing to partner with a Sentinel now and then, Gavin could fly solo for the most part. Gavin agreed.

Regardless, he'd made it and was glad his paranoid worry about Eli trying to be openly supportive after years of silent observation was completely unfounded.

On the other hand, Tina had forced him to come out to celebrate properly at a bar. She thought it was so weird that a man his age ate and drank the way he did. He was too young to be treating his body like a temple. He capitulated.

"Just this once," he said.

She got him amazingly trashed on very little, made him dance until he was dizzy, and laughed when she turned around to find him making out with a tall, dark haired stranger. She didn't let him go off to get laid because he was so wasted, but she did get him home safely and tucked him into bed. There, Gavin breathed slowly through the pounding feeling that was encompassing his body, the slow roil of not-quite-nausea, and the glint of traffic lights that were sliding across his bedroom wall because she hadn't pulled his black out curtains closed. He kept thinking he could hear the music from the club, but that couldn't be right.

Unless that was someone else's music.

Unless he was zoning.

Gavin reached for the sandpaper he kept in his bedside table, knocking over the glass of water Tina had left for him. It tipped over his hands, ice cold, and the next thing he knew, it was morning. A full day later.

He'd been lucky that he'd been scheduled for a weekend off, but Gavin was still rankled.

**

That was his normal for a while. Going and going and going, thinking he was fine, until he hit an edge and suddenly he wasn't. Sometimes it would be weeks, sometimes months. Sometimes it would be as little as a day. Sometimes he'd get home and trip into a series of short zones, waking up in the morning with a snippet here and there of the night before, still kneeling in the doorway and in his clothes from the previous work day. By some miracle, it never happened at work, though he was starting to think it had to do with the number of Guides there, casting out a very broad sense of calm to everyone around them.

He should be grateful for whatever he could get, he figured, even if they had no idea that he was among the beneficiaries. It made him wonder what the hell kind of joke Eli thought he was making when he thought androids could be as good a Guide as a human. There was no way.

He forced a new balance by cutting out risky behavior entirely. If Tina had thought he was a yuppy before, there was no telling what she'd think now. He stopped drinking, though that didn't stop him from going out with Tina when she wanted to celebrate something, but he couldn't do bars anymore – too much noise, too much smoke, too much everything. He slowly tapered back how much he ate out, figuring it was bad for him anyway, so he might as well learn to cook. He wasn't _terrible_ when it came down to it, and as long as he kept to simple recipes, the meals he made were manageable. At least, he didn't have to worry about food being too sweet or too salty or too spicy. He missed french fries like a motherfucker when he was on stakeouts however.

The amount of zoning went down a little as a result of his life adjustments, but like before, it didn't stop entirely. He kept track of them as best he could on a physical calendar he kept at home. He didn't keep any knowledge of his status on a computer. Too many people were half as smart as Elijah, but twice as likely to blackmail a cop. Who knew when he might encounter some criminal that dug into the past of every cop they met. It'd be bad enough that they'd find Elijah if anyone cared to dig at all.

He made a few passable attempts at relationships. Not all of his partners were Neutrals. One was even a Guide, but that had been a brief affair before she went off to bond with a Sentinel anyway. Hands down, none of the rest went any better, and it didn't take a genius to figure out the reason why.

Beyond even the difficulties of trying to work around his desperately difficult schedule as a detective, there was his unwillingness to be completely open about his status. Some tried to ignore his very particular lifestyle, but others weren't so ignorant. He waved off most of their suspicion by saying that he liked to treat his body well when he could and that being a Neutral didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the focusing techniques that Sentinels used. Not everyone fell for it. He didn't call those people back.

A part of him thought that he should have gotten caught a while ago. More of him thought he should have confessed _something_ to _someone_ by now, or if not that, then that he should have been accused of being the total liar he was. Elijah had been right about one thing: he was surrounded by cops! And Sentinels! And _Guides_. He'd brushed off his step-brother's concern at the time, but it was legitimately worrying that no one had ever pulled him aside to ask about his – frankly – kind of OCD behavior.

Thinking about it like that, Gavin allowed himself to loosen up in one area of his life, while everything else got shored up against possible attack. He'd use his abilities. He was already a good cop – or at least, he wasn't a bad one if both promotion and the occasional reward he received were any indication – so it only made sense that he would get better if he practiced using some of the tools at his disposal. And it made sense too that his brain might be getting a little frazzled trying to be on lock down all the time, so if he could just... relax... while he was at work?

It worked almost like a dream. It did mean that he was more likely to zone while he was at work at first, but it was easier to deal with when there was a Guide nearby, absently soothing any rankled emotions in the air as soon as they happened. It was just like any muscle; he needed to use it if he wanted to get better at controlling it.

Still, as the years dragged on, he was forced to acknowledge that there were limits to his control, limits to how fast he could push himself before things got bad. He met those lines every time like they were a surprise, and ended up being a total asshole on the other side of them, snarling at everything and ready to pick a fight with anyone that looked like they could take it. It earned him a pretty sour reputation – and maybe once or twice, Gavin wondered if he was taking the long way around to becoming feral – but it was always a worry that he pushed aside for the next day and the day after that.

So, ten years later, it wasn't any wonder to find that he was still single, feeling more than a little strung out, and staring at an android, who introduced himself as RK900.

Gavin was a total dick to him. He'd admit that much. The introduction came on the heels of an overall shittastic week. It had involved a great deal of deaths, more android Guides than Gavin had ever cared to meet, and his step-brother stepping out of the shadows to sweep up the wreckage of his once-great company. Between the sharp learning curve forced by the surge in deviancy and what amounted to a small civil war in the heart of Detroit, Gavin had little patience for more of the same.

Connor was, as always, a little sharp with him as he made introductions. There was a firmness in his gaze, a demand for cooperation that Gavin felt increasingly unlikely to give. It was bizarre to see RK900's face – to see Connor's soft features and demeanor stiffened into something militaristic, to see gray eyes instead of Connor's puppy-dog brown. They stared Gavin down like RK900 was trying to memorize him down to the molecule. The intensity was unsettling.

That was when Fowler congratulated him on finally getting a partner who could handle his particular brand of shit.

"You're fucking joking," Gavin said.

He looked RK900 over with a new eye. Connor's description of him took on a different kind of threat. RK900 was the latest and greatest that Cyberlife had created, released barely a handful of days after the Revolution. Gavin wasn't sure what kind of message Elijah was trying to send – or whether that message was for Gavin specifically or for the world at large – but he did know this: having a Guide permanently at his side wasn't going to be good. RK900 would figure him out, and then he'd rat Gavin out without even a passing resemblance at remorse.

"You said that I wouldn't have to have a partner, Fowler," Gavin said, voice edging toward petulant. "He's a Guide. Assign him to an actual fucking Sentinel. I don't need one looming over my shoulder like some overgrown hawk in order to do my job."

"I am here to assist you, Detective Reed," RK900 piped up, looking earnest but not exactly sweet. Polite, but resolute.

"Is that what you were programmed to say, tin can?" Gavin snapped. Maybe if he pissed RK900 off as easily as he had Connor, the two of them could just spend the rest of their lives avoiding each other. "Let's get one thing straight here, I don't need a partner, and I especially don't need a Guide, so find some other fucker to _assist_."

It was a mood that he maintained at all costs. He focused all his irritation on RK900 – who Fowler did not reassign – and picked fights even when he didn't mean to. He never waited for RK900. He didn't include him on calls. He did his level best to cut the android out of the loop. And yet it never took long for RK900 to catch up, and within a couple weeks, he was actually starting to anticipate when Gavin was going to leave, who he was going to interview, and where he was going to stake out. Gavin suspected that RK900 had bugged his phone, maybe even the computer terminal. It was freaky to show up at a crime scene alone and turn around a few minutes later to find RK900 already approaching, but even an android couldn't possibly defy the limits of his own body.

Gavin had to play it cool, though. He had to be sneaky.

RK900 was the quiet, watchful sort. He didn't try to make casual conversation like Connor did, but he was attentive and focused, which was definitely worse. If Gavin wanted to escape him for even a minute, he had to throw something interesting in the opposite direction before bolting. Like a dead body. Or evidence of a serial killer.

He wrote things down in a notebook – names and addresses of people that he needed to visit, particular details on the case that he knew he'd need to recite exactly like license plate numbers, and so forth – and he noticed the way that RK900's eyes flicked to the writing, probably perfectly capable of reading upside down, even if it was in a terrible scratching scrawl.

(Or maybe not, if the way RK900's lips twisted together at the corners was any indication. It was faint, but Gavin could be attentive too when it suited him.)

His chance came when an alert came up for the lab results for a particular case's evidence. "Fucking two weeks late," he grumbled, writing down on a fresh page the particular lab results he was interested in getting. "It's 'bout time."

He tore the page with the lab information out of his notebook, crumpled it, and shoved it in his pocket. He kicked at RK900. Their desks were back to back and there was tons of open room underneath. Gavin had to stretch a bit to shove at RK900's shins, but he was rough enough about it to make RK900 glare at him.

"Hey," Gavin said, feeling the shit-eating grin spreading across his face. "Go get me a coffee."

RK900's gaze shifted pointedly to the cup of coffee already on the corner of Gavin's desk. "No."

Gavin's brows rose mockingly as he picked up his styrofoam cup full of shitty, terrible coffee – like, _oh this?_ – and dropped it in the trash. "Go get me a coffee, dick bag."

RK900 took a small breath, eyes closed. When he opened them again, they were twice a stern. "You don't drink coffee, Detective Reed. Why should I–"

"Forget it," Gavin said, rising from his seat. "I'll get it myself."

He barely took a step past RK900 before the android was up, grabbing him by the elbow with one hand while the other fished around in his pants pocket for the crumpled paper. RK900 held the ball of paper up between them with two fingers. Gavin tried to snatch it back, but RK900 held it out of reach.

"Get yourself a coffee, if you really must," he said before turning toward the lab department.

Gavin scoffed at his back, staring after him until he'd rounded the corner, and then he waited a little longer, spinning his chair around and around before grabbing his notebook off his desk and making a break for the front door. He glanced back briefly as he exited – no one was following him. He stretched out his senses, but there were too many androids around for him to identify the particular electronic grind of RK900's gears. It didn't matter. The lab was on the opposite side of the building from the parking lot. Gavin was free and clear, at least for the moment.

He slid into the driver seat and immediately let out a manly scream, pressing up against the door. "Jesus fucking crap!"

RK900 gave him an unimpressed look from the passenger seat. "You should lock your vehicle when you're away from it," he said before holding his hand out. "Your phone please."

"Fuck off," Gavin snapped. His heart was still pounding. Fuck, was he sweating? The universe hated him.

RK900 frowned, then promptly grappled with Gavin before snagging his phone out of his grip. He held Gavin away at arm's length and did some weird syncing thing through his fingers. A document came up on Gavin's screen. RK900 handed it back.

"Your lab results, Detective."

Gavin scowled as he grabbed his phone out of RK900's hand, but sure enough, the results were there. He scanned it, frowning at his screen. Contamination of the Thirium that had been collected was clear – enough that the samples had not completely evaporated despite being days old. Blood didn't match any criminal records and application for comparison to government Sentinel records was still pending. Fingerprints in the grooves on the damaged androids. Again, no matches. The android's memory chip had been damaged beyond repair, completely fried, and expert technicians – they didn't say that they had contacted Cyberlife, but who else could they have meant – had determined that the Guide's own shock abilities had been the cause.

He cast a look at RK900 out of the corner of his eye. The android was examining his nails idly, in the same manner that a human might were it not for the way that his skin peeled back to reveal the white chassis underneath. Then RK900 reached out to interface with the GPS system–

"Hey!" Gavin smacked RK900's hand. "Quit nosing around!"

RK900 pulled back but didn't look contrite. He looked annoyed. "You have been investigating without me."

"No shit. Dig that out of my search history, did you?"

RK900's hands flexed. Gavin couldn't help looking at them, though he looked away quickly. They were big, capable hands. Gavin had no doubts that RK900 had been made to be extremely powerful, more than even Connor might realize. Cyberlife, and Elijah especially, didn't know how to hold back, so when RK900 curled his fingers over the tops of his knees, Gavin had a pretty good idea of just how strong a shock the Guide could give through those hands.

"I can help you. It is what I was designed to do," RK900 said. "Are you going to let me, or will we have to keep struggling like this?"

Gavin's jaw shifted, teeth grinding over one another. He saw RK900's eyes tick downward, saw the android noting his irritation. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath and exhaled. He didn't know what he was expecting. The only thing that could break out in a nervous sweat in the cramped quarters of this vehicle was Gavin himself. No, the only thing that Gavin could read off RK900 was the near-silent whir of his pump regulator – cycling at an endlessly steady rate. If RK900 felt uncomfortable at being stared at, there was no indication.

He considered telling RK900 to go fuck himself, but with him already in the car – and also very difficult to kick out – Gavin resigned himself to letting RK900 tag along with him for the day. It wouldn't be _terrible_ , he admitted to himself as he grumbled wordlessly and booted up the car. RK900 was nothing if not incredibly efficient and highly motivated. Frankly, Gavin would be pleased as punch to be working with anyone who was as competent as RK900, were it not for the fact that the android was a Guide.

Gavin was playing with fire as it was, surrounding himself with the very people who should be able to deduce his status, but honestly, what was one more? And with Elijah steering the wheel of Cyberlife these days, how likely was it that he'd send an android to the DPD that would just oust Gavin into the light? Maybe if he and Elijah were on speaking terms, Gavin would trust that more.

As it was, RK900 would have to be content with Gavin giving him the cold shoulder even as they struck out together. Gavin had no intention of letting this day mark the beginning of a bad habit.

**

They spent the day together. Gavin pointedly didn't speak to RK900. Just carried on like he wasn't there, like there wasn't a Guide at his back watching his every move. He felt more than a little high strung by the end of the day. He was fairly sure that RK900's gaze was burning a literal hole between his shoulder blades, but... it wasn't so bad, really.

Not that he was going to say so. If he was going to be stuck with RK900 as his partner, no one was going to be able to say that it was because Gavin allowed it.

**

In the end, it was Fowler who settled the whole point. He didn't threaten to fire Gavin or demote him. Gavin was, remarkably, too good at his job for a solution so straightforward. Instead, Fowler threatened something far more humiliating – and in reality, something far worse than even Fowler realized.

Therapy.

"Look," Fowler said. "I wouldn't want to have to do it to you, but if this carries on for much longer, I won't have a choice. You've got a stack of complaints about you over the last year that is as thick as my wrist. It's been tolerated so far, but you have to know that there's a line you can't cross. I don't know what's got you all heated up about Guides all the time, but you have to talk to someone about it. Get it sorted out and clean up your act with the help of a counselor. Or," he added like it was some kind of peace offering, "you can show that you're willing to work with a Guide like RK900. Take your pick."

Gavin slumped in the chair and rolled his head so that he could subtly eye RK900 through the glass. The android was watching – not even trying to hide it. His gray eyes were so bright that Gavin could practically see the lights glowing behind them. He thought about making a big stink. He even curled one of his hands into a fist, like he was ready to throw a punch. He could probably break one of the glass walls of Fowler's office, no problem, but he'd definitely get enrolled in therapy then.

He licked across the front of his teeth, showing distaste. "How willing do I have to look?"

Fowler sagged in relief and perched on the front edge of his desk. "Cooperate with him. Talk to him, for fuck's sake. Don't just ignore him. He's a valuable resource, yeah? Treat him like it."

Sighing dramatically, Gavin shoved to his feet, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Yeah, yeah. Fine." He pushed the door open and caught RK900's eye. He jerked his head toward the exit. "Hey, tin can, we got a call. Let's go!"

"Reed–"

Gavin waved off Fowler's reprimand. "I got it, I got it." He sneered over his shoulder briefly. "You can't expect miracles overnight, okay?" He grabbed his jacket as he passed his desk and kept moving.

RK900 was on his heels.


	3. Chapter 3

The case Gavin and RK900 were working on wasn't difficult by any stretch of the imagination. There was somebody killing androids, big whoop. Who wasn't these days? The Revolution might have given deviant androids rights, but it also gave them a reason to die.

He eyed RK900 as they approached the crime scene. It was the first time that RK900 wouldn't be lagging behind, and Gavin wondered how he would do – if he would look at the scene and see the same things that Gavin did, if he could deconstruct the entire display and be able to tell him the size and strength of the suspect responsible. RK900 probably had copies of Gavin's reports somewhere in his hard drive.

Gavin gestured for RK900 to go ahead. "After you."

It was a gruesome scene, to be sure. There were no obvious bloodstains in the entire area, but Thirium coated everything, streaks of it spread everywhere. Whatever had happened here had been big and obvious. Spectators were crowded around the scene, nearly pushing their way through the yellow tape. Some were being interviewed by the deputies on scene – all their answers emphatic and profuse enough that Gavin didn't even have to have enhanced hearing to know what was being said.

RK900 scanned the whole scene in what seemed like only a few seconds. His faced remained _almost_ entirely impassive – expression twitching at the corners of his eyes as he determined the exact trajectory of each Thirium droplet or fragmented chassis bit or whatever. Fucking pointless really when there was only one surefire explanation for the fuck happened to this android. The thing had been torn apart by someone super strong. With what both of them knew about how androids were built, it didn't take a genius to narrow down their suspects from everyone to—

"Another android?" RK900 suggested. How diplomatic of him.

Gavin huffed. "Or a feral sentinel," he agreed.

If it was a Sentinel, then it wasn’t one that was registered. It made Gavin wonder just how many Sentinels were out there, just like him – bondless and seeking, with their coping mechanisms growing shittier as the years went by. 

He picked his way around the other investigators, bypassing the interns taking pictures and the technicians putting androids parts into thick plastic bags for the lab. The stench of the place was goddamn awful – easing a little bit each time RK900 followed after him, step by step. That was one benefit of having the guy tag along, Gavin begrudgingly allowed. Whether RK900 knew it or not, his presence was like balm on a burn, soothing every frazzled nerve Gavin had with whatever weird technology that Elijah had managed to cook up.

Not that Gavin needed that or anything.

It’d just be nice, he guessed, if the perpetrator did turn out to be a Sentinel, and Gavin didn’t have to spend too long pretending to lose to some feral asshole on the streets.

“We got some more Thirium over here,” Gavin called back to the techs. It was already starting to evaporate, sticking to the gravel like gum at the edges. He gestured at RK900 since the techs were being slow as fuck. “Can you get pictures of this?”

RK900 gave him a look. “I am recording at all times, Detective Reed.”

Gavin leaned back. “Really,” he said. A laugh leaked out of him when RK900 nodded. “Jesus, I didn’t realize Cyberlife gave you guys so much memory space. What do you have, like a hundred petabytes or something?”

RK900’s expression turned mildly irritated, which made Gavin grin. “I am connected directly to Cyberlife’s servers, so technically, I can have as much memory as I need to at any time.”

“Gross,” Gavin said absently as he picked his way deeper into the alley. The splotches of Thirium were growing fainter by the second, but his eyes could still see the traces of it here and there. “Does Connor have that too or are you Cyberlife’s special little boy?”

“It’s something all androids share, in a manner of speaking–” RK900 began, but cut himself off after a moment. Gavin continued to wander deeper. “What are you looking for?”

Gavin hummed and took a sniff. The scent of Thirium hung like a cloud back here, heavy despite so little of it being on the ground. There had to be a reason and that pile of trash back there was starting to move.

“Hey, tin can,” he said, shaking out his legs subtly. This guy was gonna be a runner. He could feel it in his bones. “Don’t worry about keeping up, yeah?”

A few more steps closer and suddenly a huge hulk of a dude scrambled out of the pile of trash. Then, after snarling at Gavin like that was gonna do fuck all to dissuade him, he launched up the fire escape. Gavin didn’t hesitate to give chase.

He bolted up the ladder, body moving so quickly that his senses could barely keep up. Elijah would have told him that it was a stupid move, what he was doing, but in Gavin's experience, people were willing to accept any number of excuses for something that didn't line up with what they believed. So what if the average Neutral couldn't normally keep up with a feral Sentinel? Chasing them down across several rooftops and then a couple more city blocks, and then keeping them in custody – it was beyond the norm for a Neutral. But for Gavin, it was child’s play.

He could hear RK900 behind him and falling behind, not quite able to avoid the junk that the Sentinel was throwing behind him as obstacles. Gavin wondered what it was like for RK900 – to be so limited by the capabilities of the body he'd been given. Gavin could push and push, probably harder than even this if he wasn't so worried about zoning or being caught. Likewise, the Sentinel ahead of him couldn't care less. He ran like hounds were after him, then – instead of leaping to the next building – dropped to street level, catching rungs on another fire escape to slow his fall.

Gavin didn't bother. He dropped right on the guy. Three stories down on anyone other than a feral Sentinel and the impact might have seriously injured him, but with all that muscle bunched up in preparation for a fight and all that bone built up to protect from the worst, it was like hitting a boulder. The Sentinel reared up under Gavin with a roar and threw him to the ground, but Gavin wiggled out of his grasp with hiss, grabbing for his baton as he kicked free.

When Gavin flicked the baton to its full length, it snapped on with a sizzle just as the Sentinel lunged. He evaded the attack deftly, grabbing the Sentinel by the arm and slapping the baton against the opposite shoulder. The Sentinel went rigid and collapsed to one knee, his whole body trembling. Gavin could just faintly feel a tingle in the hand he had around the Sentinel's arm. Regardless, the baton wasn't enough by itself. Sure enough, the Sentinel's growling deepened and he started to rise again, bending back down only because Gavin kept shoving him down.

This wasn't gonna last long.

Gavin looked around. There were potential witnesses everywhere, giving Gavin and the Sentinel a wide, wide berth. Almost everyone was on their cell phones, staring. The sound of sirens was growing near. Closer was the sound of running feet – probably the other cops and android Guides that had been at the scene. A louder thunk behind Gavin could only be one thing, though, and soon enough, Gavin and the baton were being moved aside as RK900 seized the Sentinel around the nape of the neck, giving him the short, hard shock he needed to become docile again.

"Fuck," Gavin gasped, bending over his knees, gasping for a breath he didn't really need.

RK900 was watching him closely, so Gavin didn't try to overdo it. Hell, he hadn't even broken a sweat, so he just pretended to recover after a bit, raising his badge up to all the onlookers so he could clear the area more fully.

"What's your rating?" RK900 asked.

Gavin flinched. Worst nightmare of a question, right there. But maybe RK900 didn't mean what Gavin thought he did. "What?"

"Your Sentinel rating."

Gavin rolled his eyes so hard that he pulled something, then desperately looked around for the backup he'd heard coming earlier. They'd sounded closer at the time, close enough that they should've been pulling around the corner any second now. He could do with them hurrying the fuck up. It'd be just his luck if RK900 had sent a message out to them, saying that the situation was under control. As far as Gavin was concerned, it was quickly spiraling out of control, more and more the longer RK900 kept staring at him.

Jesus, he _had_ been stupid, and now here he was desperately scrabbling for any excuse he could reach. Elijah would be scolding him for years if he knew.

He eyed the slight scuff on RK900's shoulder. "You musta hit something while chasing me ‘cause it sounds like your systems need recalibrating,” he said. RK900’s gaze turned scathing as it dragged over his body. Gavin got the distinct impression that he was being scanned with the same intensity as a crime scene, so he quickly got himself under control. “What are you looking at, tin can?”

He meant the question to be abrasive, aggressive. Maybe if RK900 had been human, he would have known to back off, but RK900 didn’t have a lifetime of social conditioning to take the question as anything other than what it seemed.

“A Sentinel,” he answered. “You aren’t registered as one.”

Gavin wanted to pull his hair out, but he finally saw a squad car inching along, meandering alongside the typical downtown Detroit traffic like Gavin wasn’t here dying or anything. He had to nip this suspicion in the bud if he wanted to have any hope of living a normal life.

“Because I’m not one, idiot,” he said, raising his hand to the squad car and then to the few android Guides that were turning the corner as well. They were walking at an easy pace, and Gavin was going to fucking murder them with a smile on his face if they slowed down any further. He caught RK900’s continued staring out of the corner of his eye. “What, you think that a human has to be a Sentinel in order to catch one? They aren’t that fucking special.”

Finally, Tina was there and helping her Guide partner take the Sentinel into custody.

“Christ, Gav, it always amazes me how fast you run,” she said, mock punching him in the stomach. “You sure your skinny ass isn’t descended from greyhounds? I could make loads of money betting on you in races.”

Gavin evaded her little punches and reached to pinch at her sides. “I keep telling you to join me in the gym. If your fat ass exercised once in a while, you might be able to keep up,” he laughed.

She punched him in the arm for real this time. “Shut the fuck up about my ass, jerk face, and get yours checked out with the EMT. You look like this guy roughed you up some before RK900 got here.”

“Roughed up?” he echoed incredulously, even as he allowed himself to get shuffled over to the ambulance. “The only person beating me up right now is you.”

“You were asking for it,” Tina shot back.

“Yeah, yeah.” Gavin waved her off and then huffed when the EMT started poking around at the scuffs on his face and hands with a disinfecting wipe. “I’m fine, doc. Lay off.”

He joked around and shrugged off a full evaluation until everyone had their focus on getting the Sentinel back to lock up. With him being able to overcome the baton – even as little as he did – the suspect had to at least be a Level 3. Even with a criminal record ahead of him, he would have to get registered with the state, evaluated for his rating, and a whole host of shitty paperwork. Gavin didn’t envy him either way, and it made him desperately grateful that he’d never gone feral even a little.

He had problems zoning now and then, but damn, who didn’t? Every Sentinel out there was hunting for a Guide of some kind just because it felt necessary after a while. Gavin had his shit together, but he was always worried that there would be one day when he didn’t. There was gonna be a day when Elijah was right, and Gavin was going to need a Guide, and there wasn’t going to be any readily available, let alone any that were willing to bond with some random Detroit detective when they had their pick of literally anyone else.

Even RK900 – to whom Gavin could not help glancing at – was likely bound to end up graduating to some military Sentinel in the end. What was it Connor had said? Something about RK900 being some upgraded version of him? Gavin had suspected that RK900 would figure out his status eventually, but he’d thought he’d have at least a little leeway considering that Connor had never even guessed. Point was, RK900 had to be good at being a Guide – too good to be pinned down in Detroit.

Not that Gavin wanted that. He'd be shouting good riddance at RK900's back as soon as the reassignment for his services was passed on by Cyberlife. It probably wouldn't be long. Thankfully, that meant there was no risk of Gavin getting comfortable having the guy around.

**

RK900 was testing him. Gavin couldn't fucking prove it, but there was no other reason for some of the ridiculous things he did.

It wasn’t like RK900 was specifically going out of his way to trigger Gavin’s senses or anything. Things tended to happen in the course of being a cop. Sometimes the other guys in the unit would prank him. They'd crank up the volume of his car radio when he wasn’t looking, hide some stinking scent packet somewhere in his desk, that kind of thing – nothing that Gavin wouldn’t do and hadn’t done to them before already – and RK900 would see him flinch back from the noise or grimace at the smell. He’d ask about it, and Gavin just knew he was trying to find a pattern.

Like, some message would get taped to his desk overnight and he’d rip it off in the morning, not realizing that he’d left behind the strip of tape. Then later, he’d run his hands over the glass and end up spending ten minutes trying to pick the damn shit off before it drove him crazy and then another ten minutes scrubbing at it with a wet wipe because some sticky residue had been left behind. All while trying not to notice that RK900 was definitely judging him from across the table.

If Gavin demanded a coffee, RK900 would bring him a water. If Gavin tried to catch a nap during a stake out, RK900 would have questions ready when he woke up about his sleep habits and exercise routines. If Gavin started grinding his teeth, RK900 called him out on it and once even grabbed Gavin by the jaw to force his teeth apart. There was even a couple times where he caught RK900 nabbing a small bite of his lunch – weird enough by itself when he wasn't even certain that androids could eat anything other than Thirium – but then RK900 had stated that it was to analyze the nutritional quantities of his meals.

"Well?" he asked, yanking his tupperware back toward him. It was steamed white fish and rice with a side of plain broccoli. It wasn't anything special, and it certainly didn't look like something that a hyperanalytical hoverbot needed to get freaked out over.

"Less salt than I would have expected," RK900 admitted, though he did so with a puzzled frown.

"Heh, I guess not everything can be as salty as my personality," Gavin said. "Anyway, keep your grubby hands outta my food. I know where they've been."

RK900 got a pinched, exasperated look on his face that reminded Gavin so much of one of the old ladies living near him that he coughed his way past the urge to smile.

Regardless of the weird facial expressions RK900 made, Gavin knew the guy was up to something. He could practically feel him taking notes on everything that Gavin did or didn't do. Whatever the plan was, though, it wasn't professionally related. At least, RK900 never threatened to report his behaviors to Fowler, even when Gavin occasionally went outside the normal bounds of protocol.

He just watched and poked and prodded until Gavin felt like RK900 might be trying to set him on fire with his laser eyes. There was really only so much staring that a guy could take before he started staring back – before he started to do a little testing of his own.

Gavin could count on one hand the number of things he knew for sure about the RK series in particular. Sure, they were the latest line from Cyberlife, so that had to mean they were the best. But that didn't really help Gavin now that deviancy had come into the equation. Thankfully, he had two RK androids he could compare, but just putting Connor and RK900 next to each other was like night and day.

Connor was nice enough, Gavin supposed – not really his kind of people. Too sweet, for one. For another, he had the kind of face that looked like it couldn't take a joke and the tone of voice that was all soft disapproval with a side of resigned disappointment. (Although that last bit might just be because of the whole two conversations they'd ever had – neither of which Gavin felt like going over again.) Gavin had had enough of that with his father to last a lifetime. Otherwise, Connor seemed curious, happy, and delighted by most of what humanity and life could offer him – the good and the bad – which was just–

 _Ugh_.

Now, RK900 on the other hand. He didn't care about the world. He didn't go looking for experiences or friends or – much of anything, really. As far as Gavin could tell, he showed up and left the precinct precisely when he should. He didn't go anywhere, not even with Connor and Hank. All he cared about was his job and…

Gavin felt an uncomfortable tightness squeeze around his spine, and when he glanced up, RK900 was looking right at him.

**

He couldn't shake the thought, now that he'd had it. Suddenly, the way RK900 looked at him had a whole different take. It was all Gavin could notice – the weight of it, the heat of it, the way it slid over him every morning when he got in to work and chased him when he left in the evening. Every time RK900's gaze landed on him, his nerves lit up like a Christmas tree. Every time it drifted away, he felt gutted. He'd go home and feel restless without feeling like someone was watching him. He'd lay down to sleep, and his dreams would be filled with steel-gray eyes that swallowed up any distraction that might run across his path. He'd scrub his hands around a piece of sandpaper, and he'd still think about walking the whole way back to the station just to tell RK900 to fuck off with his goddamn staring. Which was stupid in and of itself because he wasn't even certain that RK900 would be there if he did.

It was giving him a headache.

All of him seemed primed to notice everything that RK900 did now. He could pick out the sound of RK900's eyes as they moved, the near silent whir of gears as he turned his head, and the particular rustle of his clothing when he came to stand near Gavin's shoulder. Little things that Gavin had never noticed before or couldn't have plucked out of everything that was always going on around him were now capable of making Gavin's hind brain perk up like a bloodhound.

Then RK900 set his hands on him, and Gavin nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Relax," RK900 said. "I'm not using my Guide protocols. You are not a Sentinel after all. There would be no need."

Gavin tried to brush him off. RK900's hands were huge. Splayed out, they could probably cover Gavin's neck from his hairline to the middle of his shoulder blades. It was more than enough space to shock the shit out of any Sentinel they came across. Those hands were terrifying. But RK900's voice remained gentle and persistent, and his eyes stared Gavin down until he relented, bowed his head, and let the Guide do whatever he pleased.

RK900 didn't do anything untoward – not at first. It was just a plain old massage at the start, stroking over the tense muscles in Gavin's neck and sliding along the sides of his spine with his thumbs. Gavin had to admit that it was nice, being touched, and RK900 was good with his hands. The knots melted under his patient ministrations with such ease that Gavin basically felt like he was going to merge with his desk. As for himself, he was so firmly wrapped up in the steady beat of the Thirium in RK900's hands that he couldn't make himself give a shit if anyone was watching.

Then RK900 paused for a fraction of a second - long enough for Gavin to blink – and he felt it.

A buzz of electricity slid under his skin, so swiftly and easily that it didn't even hurt. Even if Gavin had never suspected that RK900 was trying to prove that he was a Sentinel, there could be no doubt of the Guide’s suspicions now. Gavin’s muscles shivered, his jaw locked for a moment, and his vision went white. It was all over in a flash, and Gavin sat there, not sure if he wanted to move. He hadn't felt so relaxed in … fuck, a decade maybe? But when RK900 started to pull away, Gavin couldn't help trying to follow, head tilting back in a loose swivel.

Above him, RK900's eyes were dark. All that gray pushed to the edges as he tried to take in the entirety Gavin's sorry fucking state. He looked worried. It was cute because Gavin had never felt better.

It took some convincing to have them both get back to work, especially since Gavin's brain still felt a bit like it was floating away. He couldn't shake off the feeling of RK900's touch, even when he rolled out his neck and shoulders. It hummed through him from his head to his toes like music did when he used to stand too close to the bass speaker at the clubs – a perfect vibration that shook away everything else. The world was quiet and soft, pared down to just RK900's voice, to the look in his eyes, to particular oil-chemical-salt scent he'd carried with him out of Cyberlife’s labs.

As far as Gavin's senses were concerned, nothing else mattered.

In this new, still world that Gavin was experiencing, he decided that he needed to get in touch with Elijah again. Not now – not while RK900 was right there – but definitely sooner, rather than later. He could only hope that he liked the answer he got.

**

Elijah seemed surprised to find him on his doorstep. Almost as surprised as Gavin was that Elijah answered his own door – or that gate security had waved him through after he'd shown his ID.

"You put me on your all access list?" Gavin asked, raising a brow.

Elijah raised one right back. It was unnerving. "You seemed the least likely to take advantage of it."

Gavin shrugged. "Yeah, well. Here I am. Taking advantage."

Stepping back, Elijah waved him in and led him to a room that was filled with maybe a dozen different Chloes. "Here you are. What's going on?"

Gavin struggled to find a way to explain what was bothering him, distracted by the way the Chloes all turned to look at him. Their Guide protocols were all active, sending a mid-level hum of energy around the room. It would have been enough to basically knock out a Level 1, but to Gavin, it felt like he was about to break out into a rash with how much his skin tingled. He took a closer look at Elijah. He looked rough.

"Hey, you zoning or something?"

Elijah grimaced as he fell into a plush looking chair. "Ah, no, not at the moment. It's passed, but it was a harder one than normal. Chloe did her best, but she is still just a first edition Guide."

"That why you got so many?" Gavin asked.

"That, and if there's someone out there that can get past so many Guides in order to take me out, then I probably don't stand a chance anyway," Elijah said, chuckling.

Gavin strode over and kicked Elijah roughly in the ankle. "Not funny," he said. "You for real?"

Elijah grunted, batting Gavin away and waving him into the seat across from him. "I'm the reinstated CEO of a company whose production line recently underwent a revolution." He rolled his eyes and leaned into the shoulder of the nearest Chloe. "Are people trying to kill me," he muttered. "Honestly, Gav. Now, if you please. You aren't here to check up on me, so what's really dragged you here, hm?"

Scrubbing his sweating palms across his knees, Gavin tried not to notice how tired Elijah was and failed. Guilt rose up in a wave. He could figure out his own shit. “It doesn’t matter. I should let you get some rest.”

“Gavin,” Elijah said. His gaze was fixed on his brother. “Just tell me.”

He wanted to. He did, but the words stuck in his throat. It was so hard to explain. Anxiety locked it all up inside him, but he knew – _he knew_ – that he couldn't move forward until he had something confirmed by Elijah.

"The uh… The RK900 androids. You make any of them?"

Eli got a weird smile on his face. "RK900," he echoed, drawing it out until Gavin thought he might scream. Elijah knocked his knuckles along his jaw, then said: "No. I didn't make them. They were already in production by the time I was reinstated."

Gavin let out a sigh of relief.

"There was one though," Eli added. Gavin froze. "Newly deviated. Already assigned to the DPD. I might have told him about you. Just in case."

"What did you tell him?" Gavin immediately asked. "Did you tell him I was a Sentinel?"

Elijah held up his hands to stave off further accusations. "Why would I do that? More to the point, what benefit would that give me? You've said often enough that your status is your own business. I've respected that—"

"Don't bullshit me, Eli!" Gavin hissed. With Elijah it had always been one thing to keep Gavin’s secret from their father, but the trade had always been that instead it was Elijah, who was the one pressuring Gavin to bond any Guide that would take him. "What did you tell him?"

Frowning, Elijah leaned back into his seat. "Tell me why you need to know."

Gavin jabbed a finger in his direction. "Don't do this to me." He scowled at Elijah's innocent expression. "I heard all about your freakin' tests with Connor. Hank couldn't stop crying about how fucked up you were trying to get Connor to shoot Chloe for some scrap of information. I'm not one of your toys, okay?"

Eyes narrowed, Elijah looked Gavin all over again like he was searching for something. "No, but you're my brother. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Gavin said – too quickly, and yet it wasn't a lie either. "Nothing's wrong. He's just… He's always there, y'know?"

He could clearly see that Elijah didn't, but he was trying.

"And that's… bad?" Elijah ventured.

Gavin scrubbed his hands together. "...No," he admitted cautiously. "I mean, if you didn't tell him that I'm a Sentinel—"

"Which I didn't."

"—then I'm pretty sure he’s just trying to prove it. Otherwise, he's alright I guess. He's a nag and fucking stalker, but whatever. He’s my partner. He’s supposed to be there."

Gavin could hear in his own voice just how little RK900 being a nag and a stalker actually bothered him. They'd been partners for, what – Gavin counted off the weeks and days in his head – nearly three months. It was the longest that Gavin had ever had a partner as a detective, to be honest, and while he'd been irritated at being paired up with a Guide, he couldn't find fault with how nice it was to have someone at his back with the same measured consistency that RK900 brought to the table.

"Well I don't see government officials dragging you off to get registered, and you haven't gone feral while I wasn't looking," Elijah started. "Things must be going really well between you two if you’re freaking out this hard.”

Throwing himself back into his seat, Gavin scowled. “M’not freaking out.”

“You show up unannounced on my doorstep, talking about a Guide that may or may not know you’re a Sentinel and demanding to know what sort of secrets I gave him.” Elijah picked at some nonexistent lint off his pants and crossed his legs. “But sure, you’re not freaking out about anything.”

“I’m not!” Gavin argued, face turning red. “How could I be? He’s fucking perfect!”

Elijah’s brows went up, and his eyes went round. He sat forward, rubbing a knuckle at the bridge of his nose like he was pushing up glasses that he didn’t wear anymore. “What do you mean by that?”

“He’s a Guide,” he said, leg bouncing nervously.

When Gavin didn’t immediately say more, Elijah scrubbed a hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. “Fucking hell, Gavin, say something. Literally anything.”

“I’m sorry,” Gavin said, voice cracking with nerves as everything blurted out of him all at once. “It’s just. It only happened recently and yeah, okay? Yeah, I guess I _am_ freaking out about it. It’s just—” Gavin scratched at his forehead, gesturing helplessly. “I was zoning over days or something. I don’t know. I saw him looking at me, and my brain just fixated. It was driving me crazy. None of the usual tricks helped. I guess he noticed, and uh—” He could feel the embarrassment crawling up his neck again. “He was trying to be sneaky. He said he wasn’t going to activate his Guide protocols cause they wouldn’t help someone who wasn’t a Sentinel. But then he, you know.”

Gavin stretched out both hands in front of him like he imagined RK900 had done. The humiliation of trying to describe to his brother how RK900 had touched him could not be over-exaggerated. He hated it and yet, the very memory of it made his anxiety soften and his nerves quiet. All his fidgeting slowed and then stopped.

“It was nothing like how other Guides have felt,” Gavin murmured. “It didn’t irritate me. It didn’t make me feel like I needed to try to break free. I mean, maybe because he was doing it on purpose where everyone before was on accident, but even so, it was still pretty fucking perfect.” He looked up and noticed that Elijah was staring at him. Gavin had both his hands out in front of him, just hanging there stupidly, so he pulled them back in quickly, tucking them under his armpits. “Anyway, that’s why I need to know – what you told him or programmed him to do. Cause if this is just some fucked up way to get me bonded, I’ll…”

Gavin left the threat hanging there, unsaid. Fact was, even if Elijah admitted to making RK900 specifically for him, Gavin wasn’t sure it would change anything. Gavin would probably be more upset about it, but RK900 would still be absolutely dedicated and still have absolutely perfect hands that could put Gavin down whenever it was needed. Gavin would have to be an idiot to give it up out of spite, but no one had ever gone out of their way to call him smart either.

Elijah rubbed a hand over his mouth, but when it dropped down, his brother was smiling a little. “I gave him some background information on you before he shipped out. Nothing about you being a Sentinel and nothing personal like family or relationships.”

Good to know some things could still be kept private.

Elijah went on. “He got a preliminary personality profile on you, and I warned him that you’d be a stubborn son of a bitch and that he shouldn’t let that stop him from getting to know you. The only thing contained within his assignment with the DPD was to function as a detective to the best of his abilities.” Gavin waited for more damning information to get confessed, but his brother just shrugged one shoulder and leaned back once more into Chloe’s embrace. “That’s all.”

“So you didn’t build him for me?”

“No.”

“And he figured out I was a Sentinel without you telling him.”

“Looks like,” Elijah confirmed. “I did warn you not to be reckless.”

“And you’re sure he’s deviant?” Gavin asked. “Cause he gets very–” He gestured from his temples to the ground with both hands, thinking of the way hunting dogs pursued their prey with merciless intent. “Focused.”

“Even with the assignment from Cyberlife, all his mission objectives are self-generated,” Elijah confirmed. “Deviancy allows him to make his own decisions. Cyberlife doesn’t give orders anymore. We’re more like a hospital than not, these days. I have his records, if you don’t believe me.”

Gavin waved him off. “No, it’s fine. It’s good.”

“What will you do now?” Elijah asked.

Silence settled for a moment while Gavin thought about it, but he hardly noticed. With interference by Elijah and Cyberlife eliminated as an obstacle, there was literally nothing else that was stopping him from thinking of RK900 as just another Guide, yet he couldn’t think of anything he’d actually do with that mindset. So what if RK900 had his settings perfectly aligned with Gavin’s particularly neurotic nervous system? That didn’t mean he wanted to be the Guide responsible for keeping Gavin’s ass grounded for the rest of his life.

He’d thought it before, but it still stood to reason that it’d be far more likely that RK900 would land a position as a military Guide rather than staying with the Detroit Police Department. Therefore, there was no point in hoping that RK900 might be amenable to sticking around on the long term, just for Gavin. And actual bonding beyond that? Deviancy was still too new to know if that was even a possibility, and Gavin didn’t want to get stuck in some one sided bond, with him aching and aching for closeness to someone who would only ever be able to go through the motions. How pathetic would that be!

Even with Elijah’s assurances that RK900 was acting under his own directives, Gavin couldn’t quite make himself hope for anything.

What was he going to do now? Gavin could only provide one answer: “Nothing.”

“You’re joking,” Elijah said. “You have a Guide trying to take care of you,” and here, he started to tick things off on his fingers. “Watching to see if you’re zoning, stopping you from zoning, nagging you – whatever that means – _and_ keeping the secret of your status to himself. You’re just going to walk away from that?”

“I’m not–” Gavin scrubbed a hand over his face. He was floundering, and he hated it. “Is it so wrong to not want to get my hopes up?”

“Nothing good will ever happen to you if you don’t get your hopes up about something. Do you think I could have built Cyberlife if I didn’t fight for it? Do you think anyone has success if they don’t reach out and take it?”

“You literally got kicked out of your own company last year!”

“Yeah, and they begged me to come back,” Elijah argued. “But _you–_ ” He paused, then threw out his hands in resignation. “Forget it. You’ve never wanted a Guide. I don’t see why anything should change now.”

There was something in the way Elijah said it that made Gavin grind his teeth. There was no further argument that Gavin had in him – not against that. Elijah wasn’t looking at him at all now. Gavin was utterly dismissed.

Gavin shoved himself to his feet. “Whatever, man. If you want to be satisfied with a bunch of walking, talking shock sticks, be my guest. I’m not that fucking desperate.”

He slammed the door as he left. It didn’t make him feel any better.

**

He’d taken a taxi to get to Elijah’s place, but he decided he’d walk the whole way home. It was times like these where he almost wished that he smoked. The guys at work were always talking about how a stick or two is all they needed to chill out at work, and Jesus, he could use that now. All he had in its place was a few miles of walking to wear him out and clear his head. So, he wandered the city instead of heading straight home, feeling sorry for himself. 

Elijah was right about one thing – it would be stupid to do nothing. He thought about how easily RK900 had wiped his brain clean, when a bunch of Guides milling around the precinct and their general aura of peace didn’t do shit. He wondered how hard he could actually push himself before he really lost it. He wondered if RK900 could actually take him down if he did lose it and how.

The thought experiment went into wild places. Mostly because he’d had himself on lock down for so long that he wasn’t really sure where his limits actually were. Sure, the slightest things had set him off when he was younger, but that didn’t exactly tell him how sensitive he was. Heck, he wasn’t sure about RK900’s rating either, but just the idea of freedom – whether it was for an hour or for a year, for however long RK900 was willing to hang around – and flying under a Guide’s care was enough to make Gavin giddy. The thought of it carried him blindly through the next few blocks, and when he finally looked up, he was on the doorstep to the station.

RK900 was at his desk. He hadn’t noticed Gavin yet.

It felt bizarre, Gavin thought, to be able to watch RK900 without the android being aware of it. To see the splay of light across his face, the way his fingers flicked across the keyboard, the pristine cut of his uniform despite having worn it all day. RK900 was handsome, he thought. Theoretically, it was the same face as Connor’s, but it didn’t _feel_ the same when Gavin looked. There was something different behind his eyes, behind his smile, and–

Jesus, Gavin should fucking stop.

“Detective Reed.”

Gavin snapped to the present with a little shake of his head. RK900 was staring up at him. Gavin looked around quickly. He’d walked into the station without thinking about it, without even noticing. He cursed inwardly, hoping that no one had noticed that he’d zoned even for that long.

“Are you alright?” RK900 asked, standing and pulling away the fist that Gavin was rubbing between his brows. “What are you doing here so late?”

He reached for an excuse. “I, uh… I couldn’t sleep.”

RK900 frowned, and the little light at his temple whirred a soft yellow. “You have a long shift tomorrow. Sufficient rest is essential.”

“I know, I know–”

“Have you even gone home?” Guiltily, Gavin admitted that he hadn’t, though he couldn’t say that he’d gone straight to Eli’s place after work. RK900’s frown deepened, then he bent to log off his workstation with a single touch. “Come. Let’s get you home.”

And then, like he knew Gavin would try to argue, he fit his hand around the back of Gavin’s neck and tugged him toward the door like a bad puppy. Gavin protested. Of course he protested – loudly and profusely for anyone who might be listening – but he got quiet as soon as RK900 had him in a taxi. He rubbed the back of his neck, surprised that there hadn’t been a shock. He’d halfway expected it. Hell, a part of him had _wanted_ it.

“Go home, Detective,” RK900 said, leaning in to buckle Gavin forcibly into the back seat. “I will see you in the morning.”

Gavin caught him by the wrist before he could get too far. “Hey, uh.” But he couldn’t think of what he was going to say. What? Tell RK900 that he’d been right about Gavin’s status from the get-go when the taxi probably had a camera trained on him right now? Fuck no. “Yeah, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks, man.”

RK900 hesitated to withdraw even when Gavin let him go, but he smiled after a moment and gave Gavin’s shoulder a squeeze. “Sleep well, Detective Reed.”

And so that night, as if RK900 had given him some sort of irrefutable order, Gavin did just that. Slept straight through the night.

No dreams. No restless tossing.

No zoning.

Just sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genuinely hoping that the email goes out to anyone subscribed to this while the ao3 servers are getting maintenance. Anyhoozle~ Happy Friday y'all

It turned out that getting more sleep on a regular basis did wonders for one’s mood. RK900 noted Gavin’s better attitude and seemed pleased about it. At least, Gavin was pretty sure he felt pleased. It was hard to tell on a face that seemed determined not to emote, but RK900 did mention it and had stopped nagging quite as hard. There was also that satisfied lift at the corner of his mouth that could have very well been Gavin’s imagination.

Regardless, RK900 was attributing the behavior change to Gavin getting a full night’s rest – which was happening nearly every night now, sometimes even without RK900 telling him to – and Gavin didn’t have the heart to argue when he couldn’t very well say that it was because he was thinking about letting RK900 know, like _really know_ , that he was a Sentinel. Sleep was great and all, and Gavin couldn’t deny that it certainly helped him embrace the day with greater energy and clarity. But what was actually revving his engine every morning was the idea of biting the bullet and telling RK900 what he was.

Personally, he was really hoping he could egg RK900 into accusing him as boldly as he had the first time, just so he wouldn't have to work himself up to doing more explanation. He'd decided that he wanted RK900 to know and the idea of having RK900 know was exciting and relieving. But having the words actually spill out of his own dumb mouth? Terrifying. But RK900 was smart, he figured. If he showed off enough, RK900 would probably get irritated enough to say something. All Gavin would have to do is wait.

The only issue was trying to figure out how to do it.

Being a detective instead of beat cop – and aside from that wild chase a few months back – most of their time was spent solving the crimes after they’d already been committed. It was a lot of interviews. A lot of the two of them doing the occasional overnight stake out, the two of them trapped together in a car while Gavin struggled against straight up blurting out the truth. The opportunities for him to use his Sentinel abilities were kind of slim.

He focused his hearing to the max during those stake outs, hoping to find something incriminating, but that was a bust. And his attention wandered during the interviews in the hopes that a clue would present itself, but that meant that RK900 ended up doing the heavy lifting there sometimes. No luck there either, but at least the results were pretty fucking funny.

**

"Oh my god, what the fuck."

Gavin almost started to smile when he saw RK900 huff as he strode ahead of them as they left the latest in a string of witness interviews. Laughter gathered in his chest, but Gavin swallowed it down at the stiffness in the android's shoulders. A part of him still could not believe the train wreck he'd just seen. It was hard to imagine RK900, who had literally declared upon their meeting that he'd been made to help Gavin, was so bad at interviews. He didn't have it in him to let this kind of thing pass without comment, but given how surprised RK900 had been by their witness's sour reaction to his methods, he could at least be a little kind about it.

... Who was he kidding?

He did manage to restrain himself to a shit eating grin as they drove away and hid it by scrubbing his hand across his mouth. "So..." he started.

"Don't," RK900 said.

"Oh, come on!" Gavin couldn't hide his smile now. "I just saw you tell the sweetest little old lady that her testimony only had fourteen percent reliability due to – what was it you said?"

"The inherent inaccuracy of human memory and the malleable nature of non-Sentinel visual perception," RK900 intoned. "And then she threw her tea in my face." He wiped at his cheek with his sleeve and grimaced at the wet stain.

Gavin had to laugh then. RK900 looked so miserable. "Classic!" he crowed, wiping a tear from his eye. "I don't think I've seen anything so funny in fuckin' months! Jesus, aren't you equipped with interrogation techniques or something?"

RK900 frowned, which only made Gavin laugh harder. It took whole minutes before his laughter was able to dissolve down to muffled giggles, and even then, glancing at RK900's carefully placid expression was liable to set him off again. He refrained, but it was probably one of the most difficult things he’d ever done in his life.

“Alright, alright, I’m done, I swear,” Gavin said as he started up the car. “You need a change of clothes or anything?”

“Please,” RK900 said, picking at the damp front of his shirt.

Gavin grinned so hard that his whole face felt tight with happiness.

**

RK900 looked um… different in Gavin’s clothes.

It was just the shirt that the Guide had borrowed, and being the big guy he was, RK900 was stretching the shirt out to its limits. Gavin had never thought of himself as particularly small for a man, and yet there was no denying that the shirt was scrunching up at the sides because of the strain of having to cover RK900’s broad chest. There was even a little strip of bare skin between the hem of the shirt and the waist of RK900’s pants, and Gavin, like the total moron he was, could not stop staring.

…it was just so _pale_.

Tina shouldered him as she passed. Her grin was teasing, but there was an edge to her expression that told him that she was tagging him for something serious. “Eyes up, dick wad. We need all hands on deck.”

Forces were thin in emergencies. Worse when multiple happened at the same time. A large fire had broken out on one side of the city, so teams had been sent out to handle the evacuation of the buildings and keep traffic clear for emergency vehicles. But now, there was some crazy hostage situation going on.

“Your Guide’s bound to have a good eye,” Tina said. “Chief said to bring you two on. RK900’s basically as good as a Sentinel, and we’re running short.”

Gavin tried not to feel offended that he wasn’t the resource being tapped, but couldn’t fault Tina or Fowler. It’s not like either of them knew.

“I have the address,” RK900 said. “I’ll coordinate with the others on the scene to see where we can best position ourselves.”

The hostage situation was a mess. RK900 filled Gavin in on the details as they drove, siren wailing. Third floor of a building, a group of hostages held off together by a suspect with a gun. There were Guides all around the ground level pavement, holding off bystanders and the media from entering and keeping the calm. SWAT was stationing themselves at ideal positions, preparing to enter and hopefully negotiate. They needed a few spares that could telegraph in further information.

“We can get a higher position,” RK900 suggested to the SWAT lead.

Gavin cast his eyes up the side of the building. Most of the windows had blinds or curtains, as far as he could tell, and when he strained his hearing – tuning out the sounds of the police scanners and people shouting, the pounding of steps as they climbed the stairs and the high whine of air conditioners – he could hear threats being shouted and people whimpering and crying. It made his blood boil.

“–tive Reed,” RK900 said. “This way.”

RK900 led them to the roof of a neighboring building. It was a squat thing, but the roof still sat higher than the third floor that they needed. There were two other SWAT members stationed at the corners. Their guns were trained on the opposite building, but with the blinds drawn in every window, it was impossible to be certain of which room their hostage-taker was in by the naked eye.

They seemed to have things under control regardless.

RK900 busied himself with reporting back what he was able to scan of the building from this distance. He was reading infrared signatures, so he could confirm the location. The suspect had a hostage in their grasp, but RK900 could not report whether the hostage was between the suspect and the window or not. Infrared did not offer great depth perception.

Kneeling down at the edge of the roof, Gavin braced his elbows atop the wall that lined the perimeter. The wind was high. All those nice lake breezes got funneled straight through the streets, compressed through the narrow alleys until they sliced past any clothes he had on. The chill raised goose bumps on his arms, and for a long time, the area was quiet aside from the crackling updates coming through RK900’s radio.

Gavin stared at the window RK900 had reported on. The blinds were lowered, but not fully closed. The room beyond seemed dark compared to the bright sun. The reflecting light was sharp, but quickly waning as the sun started to disappear behind the skyline. If he focused, Gavin could make out the shapes of people – the shadows of heads just above the window sill, and beyond them the larger shadow of the suspect with their primary hostage held tightly to them. He widened his eyes. His whole face felt tight around them, muscles straining as his eyes dilated to get more details. He shadowed his brow with one hand as he drew his pistol from its holster.

Abruptly, RK900’s hand slid in to push down the hand at Gavin’s brow and replace it, fingers brushing lightly against his skin. Gavin didn’t look up. Who knew what his eyes looked like right now? If he tried looking anywhere other than that dark room across the street, he might temporarily blind himself.

The details of the city fell away from Gavin’s periphery. The plastic slats of the blinds blurred and disappeared. Gavin could hear a flag flapping loosely in the wind, snapping and falling as the wind kicked up and eased in turns. The suspect came into focus – narrow bony guy, but way taller than the woman whose throat he had his arm around. He wasn’t trying too hard to use her as a shield. Even though she was between him and Gavin, she was short and small. Gavin had a clear shot of the suspect’s head and shoulders.

But the wind. It was blowing in fast little gusts that hit hard up against Gavin’s side, pushing at his shoulders and arms. His gun.

“Hey,” Gavin said. “How fast is the wind going right now?”

RK900 was silent for a moment. Gavin wondered if RK900 wasn’t going to answer. Then: “Twelve point two miles per hour.”

Gavin grimaced, holding fast to his weapon. It was a struggle to keep it from leaning with the wind, but if he exerted the strength he needed to keep it still, it would just start shaking from the effort. RK900 shifted and sat on the edge of the building, his whole body blocking out the gleam of the sun from Gavin’s face. The wind cut around RK900 like water around a rock, falling back in only to curl within Gavin’s hair.

It was enough.

Gavin smiled. “Cool.”

Free to focus as he needed, Gavin waited. The SWAT team got to the door to start negotiations. The suspect yelled back, spittle flying as he brandished his gun toward his other hostages. The suspect pulled his arm tight around the woman’s throat. She started to turn red and struggled. One of the other hostages screamed for help, and the suspect whirled on him, trained his gun and—

Gavin’s bullet caught the suspect in the shoulder. He fell back against the wall behind him, and the woman scrambled away as the SWAT team burst into the room. The suspect got tackled to the floor and medical was called in. The hostages were led out to safety.

“Nice,” Gavin said as he pushed away from the edge of the roof. He shook his head as he holstered his gun before daring to look at the ground. His eyes refocused back to something normal. He grabbed his radio and let Tina know that SWAT had the situation in hand. RK900 was giving him one of those looks again – the kind that made heat start to crawl up the back of Gavin’s neck. “You ready? Looks like I got a report to make.”

“You’re going to admit responsibility?” RK900 asked.

“I discharged my weapon,” Gavin said, patting the gun secured at his hip. “Kinda hard to avoid it. Besides, it was a pretty impressive shot, don’t you think? Be a shame not to brag a little.”

RK900’s scanned the distance from the roof to the building across the street. “Forty yard shot, perfectly accurate despite the wind. With a pistol. The shot was incredibly impressive.” RK900 brushed his pants clear of dirt as he stood. “For a Neutral,” he added.

Gavin couldn’t help smiling. It felt like his plan was working. “I guess luck was on my side.”

“Is that what you’re going to tell Captain Fowler before he writes you up for reckless endangerment of a hostage?” RK900 asked.

“I aimed for the shoulder. I got him in the shoulder,” Gavin said. “That’s what I’ll say, and that’s what he’ll take. Trust me.”

RK900 sighed as they took the stairs back to street level. “I do,” he said.

It might have been Gavin’s imagination, but he thought RK900 sounded a little uneasy.

**

Despite knowing that RK900 suspected he was a Sentinel, it was hard for Gavin to tell if RK900 was actually picking up what he was throwing down. It was almost disappointing to think that maybe he’d denied being a Sentinel to RK900’s face for so long that the Guide was willing to just take him at his word, even when Gavin wasn’t bothering to hide nearly as much as he had before. Maybe he wasn’t broadcasting as many hints as he’d thought. Or maybe RK900 was just pretending Gavin wasn’t a Sentinel so that he wouldn’t have to report him for registration.

Gavin would have hovered there in limbo for months if he hadn’t gotten notice from his doctor that access to his medical records had been requested. Two months straight of RK900 doing nothing out of the ordinary except a couple long, silent conversations with Connor with their bare hands linked together, and now something like this.

In theory, it could be anyone requesting this information. It could be Eli, but that was unlikely. Eli probably had some program script out there that automatically collected Gavin’s information as soon as it was put out there. Plus, Gavin already had him as an emergency contact. He didn’t need permission.

It could be some stranger out there phishing for information to steal Gavin’s identity, but this seemed pretty fucking lazy. Gavin poked around, called customer service, did his due diligence. And sure as shit, he hassled one of the service reps hard enough that they fessed that the request had come from a Cyberlife address with a serial number attached. The serial number got rattled off in Gavin’s ear with a confused sort of edge. It meant nothing to the rep, but Gavin knew the pattern of digits. It was RK900 for sure.

“Alright, go ahead and release the information they’re asking for,” he said.

“The request is for full access to your medical records,” the rep stated. “We’ll need you to submit a signed permission form.”

Gavin agreed, pulled up the document as soon as it arrived in his email, and signed it then and there. It was a little weird to see RK900’s serial number in the recipient blank instead of an actual name, though. That should probably change – after all, there were what… Twenty thousand RK900 units out there in the world? All of them with sequential serial numbers? Talk about a nightmare with paperwork.

Anyway. There, it was done. Gavin couldn’t help wondering what RK900 would do with the information. Hell, he wondered what information there even was. It couldn’t be much. He didn’t go to the doctor for hardly anything short of emergencies and maybe the occasional checkup. There wasn’t anything there that said that he was a Sentinel – not officially anyway.

But if anyone was going to figure something out, surely it was going to be RK900.

**

So Gavin waited.

And watched.

And he got nothing. RK900’s behavior didn’t budge a goddamn inch. He was still fussy over what Gavin ate. He still insisted on a full night’s sleep, even if he never did seem to go out of his way to make sure Gavin did it. Those gorgeous hands still slid over Gavin’s neck and shoulders every time a migraine manifested itself. There were guys on the force giving Gavin the stinkiest side-eye imaginable every time he pulled off something that actual Neutrals wouldn’t even dream of trying, but RK900 still refrained from questioning Gavin’s status, like he didn’t want to risk his theory getting rejected again.

Had the fucker really not figured it out? Jesus, Gavin was going to pull his own hair out in frustration. Was he going to have to say it to RK900’s face? He felt ready to leap out of his skin at the very prospect, but he’d fucking do it if Cyberlife’s best and brightest was still too stupid to follow up on a working hypothesis and months of blatant evidence.

He opened his calendar and started scrolling through it. He was going to pick a day and stick to it. If RK900 hadn’t confronted him by then, he’d do it. But as he flicked through the dates, every single day either felt too soon or too far away. He didn’t think he’d be able to go another two months without saying anything, but the thought of trying anything in the next few weeks made him feel like a panic attack was imminent.

Nothing felt precisely, exactly right.

He was so engrossed in his phone that he jumped when Tina slammed her hand on the corner of his desk.

“Happy birthday!” she said, loud enough to draw the attention of the whole room, and dove in to squeeze him around his shoulders. “I know you’re like, vegan or whatever–”

“What? I’m not–”

“But I got you this–” It was a cupcake, piled monstrously high with icing, so sweet that he felt like he’d been hit in the face by a cloud of powdered sugar. “It’s made from coconut or something, so it probably tastes like crap, but hey, this is me respecting your lifestyle. Your body’s a temple and all that shit. That’s why you’re amazing and definitely not on steroids.”

He looked up at her with big eyes. “Christ, is someone saying that?”

She smacked a fat kiss to his temple before stepping away, grinning but not answering his question. She gave him double finger guns and a wink. “You’re perfect just the way you are, and I love you, man. Never change.”

Gavin felt gob smacked in the wake of Tina’s exit, especially since it seemed like the whole room was staring at him all of a sudden. He pointed a finger at everyone with a sweep of his hand, making sure to make eye contact as many people as possible.

“I want to make this perfectly clear to you assholes,” he said. “I. Am not. A vegan.”

An awkward laugh bubbled up from the back of the room, and Gavin was pretty sure that he saw Connor making a break for it before someone actually caught him thinking that Gavin was funny. (The coward.) Slowly everyone else sort of chuckled agreeably and went on with their day. Some came over to echo Tina’s good wishes. No one mentioned any stupid steroid rumor to his face, but he could see the thought lingering anyway.

He’d have to be more careful, he guessed, even if he didn’t want to anymore.

“So,” RK900 said from his desk. His fingers were hovering over a sea of reports.

Gavin slumped into his seat. “I’m not on steroids either,” he said. “So don’t you start.”

“I know you’re not on steroids,” RK900 said, glancing away briefly. Was that guilt? Gavin wished he could call him out on it. “I merely wished to know if you had plans for your birthday.”

Pleasant surprise made a light flush rise to his face. “Uh… no, matter of fact,” he said. “No plans.”

“Not even with Officer Chen?” RK900 asked. “Or with family?”

“Nope.” Gavin popped his lips around the word. “Why?”

RK900’s fingers splayed out broadly over the surface of his desk. “Curiosity,” he stated. “My understanding is that humans tend to celebrate major events in their lives with those they care about.”

Gavin shrugged. He hadn’t celebrated his own birthday in a good decade probably. He hadn’t thought much of it until it had been pointed out. “Yeah well. Mom died when I was a kid. Dad’s an asshole. Got a half-brother off doing his own crazy shit. Everyone’s got their own thing. It’s no big deal.”

RK900 frowned like he disagreed tremendously, but didn’t argue, for which Gavin was grateful. It was embarrassing enough that he was another year closer to forty without a gaggle of close friends to show for it. He didn’t want some glaring neon sign hovering over him, outright stating how pathetic Gavin’s life was.

Spending the day like this would be enough.

**

RK900’s disposition didn’t let up through the remainder of the day, so much so that Gavin was nearing the end of their shift feeling irritable and restless. They’d had a relatively calm day, most of which had been spent on the phone or following up on previous investigative calls. The final hour approached with such excruciating slowness that Gavin could basically feel the second hand on the wall clock pounding in his ears.

Then RK900 stood up so quickly that Gavin very nearly kneed the underside of his desk in alarm. The look on the Guide’s face was stern – kind of angry – but that couldn’t be Gavin’s fault. He hadn’t been nagged at all day, which had been a gift unto itself to be honest, so it wouldn’t be fair if RK900 had decided now to get all uppity about something.

Well if he was gonna be mad about nothing, Gavin might as well earn it. “You glitchin’ or something, tin can?”

RK900’s expression, if anything, became more determined. Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed, but the downward angle of his mouth was at least twenty degrees and his little night light was a concerning yellow. “Shut down your terminal. We’re going out.”

All at once, Gavin remembered quite vividly that today was his birthday and that he didn’t have plans. He’d even _told_ _RK900_ that he didn’t have plans. He was out of excuses. What was RK900 planning on?

“Uh, no? We’re not?”

Fuck, Gavin couldn’t even make himself sound firm on that! RK900 was never going to respect a refusal that sounded so lame!

The Guide’s fingers came to rest near the cupcake Tina had given him earlier. He’d picked at it all afternoon, but she’d been right about one thing – it tasted like crap, so sugary that what little he’d eaten still clung to his tongue. Gavin looked at RK900's fingers and the cupcake and abruptly had the hysterical thought of RK900 trying to hand feed it to him. Then RK900 leaned in. The cast of his shadow across Gavin's shoulder felt almost as heavy as his hand. Gavin's whole body lit up in awareness. 

“It’s your birthday,” RK900 said. “That’s cause for celebration.”

Gavin licked his lips. RK900 wanted to celebrate Gavin’s birthday by going out. He wanted to celebrate Gavin’s birthday by spending time together. Was he… was he asking Gavin on a date? It couldn’t be. They were barely friends. They were partners. Partners who RK900 had apparently decided needed to spend time together outside of work for personal birthday reasons. 

Glancing around, Gavin realized the danger of discovery was relatively minimal. Almost everyone was out except for Hank and Connor, and the two of them were deep in conversation on the opposite side of the room. Thank God Hank’s heightened senses didn’t include hearing.

“Alright,” he said. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to be around RK900 anyway. If he was looking for an excuse to do more of that, this was as good as any. “I’ll play along. Where do you want to go?”

RK900’s head cocked to the side like a dog’s. The light at his temple whirred a little faster. Then: “Ice cream?”

“Ice cream,” Gavin said, tempted despite himself. “Can you even eat it?”

RK900 held out a hand to him. “Why don’t we find out together?”

Gavin grinned. He was charmed. He’d probably feel stupid about this later, but in the moment, nothing in the world could have stopped him from saying yes to that face, to that voice, to that offer. He shut down his terminal so fast that he was pretty sure he’d lost the unsaved work he’d done on a report, but then he had his hand in RK900’s grip as the Guide led them to a creamery several blocks away from the station.

It had been literal years since he’d gotten ice cream. At home, on the odd occasion that he desperately missed sweets, he ended up eating fruit. Once he’d even tried the whole frozen banana DIY shtick, but every mixture he’d tried had still tasted so overwhelmingly banana to his tongue that he hadn’t bothered since. Real ice cream with its sugar and excessive toppings and mix-ins – the options seemed limitless now that they were all set before him.

He eyed the other patrons in the store and RK900. The lights overhead were bright. The sweet scent in the air was overpowering. He probably shouldn’t push it by trying something wild, but RK900 gave him a quizzical look when he ordered vanilla.

“What?” Gavin asked. “It’s classic.”

“You were looking at the chocolate for a long time,” RK900 said. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer it?”

Gavin waffled. On the one hand, he didn’t want to zone out over ice cream on a first definitely-not-a-date. He also didn’t want to get chocolate just because RK900 said. On the other hand, what were the chances that he’d actually zone? And yeah, he was a contrary, spiteful bastard, but—

“I haven’t had it since I was a kid. It probably hasn’t changed.”

But RK900 egged him on a little more, voice gentler than Gavin had ever heard it, and soon enough Gavin was sitting down with two scoops of ice cream in front of him. It felt a million times more indulgent than all the other shit that he’d been pulling recently. Taste and smell – they were easiest senses to use in conjunction, but everything they triggered came at him too fast for him to shut it down.

Yet here he was, tempting fate.

RK900 dragged his spoon around the edge of his Thirium ice cream. It looked like it could be blueberry. It temporarily stained RK900’s tongue with each bite before it got fully absorbed. Gavin hadn’t quite built himself up to take even a sampling of his own.

“Relax,” RK900 said. “If you zone, I’m here.”

Gavin’s heart pounded. It wasn’t outright – just as every other accusation after that first one had never been outright – but it was still the closest that RK900 had come since to stating what Gavin was. He couldn’t just let that slide without comment when it was exactly the opening he’d been waiting for.

“M’not gonna zone over ice cream,” he said as their knees brushed under the table and quickly shoved a small spoonful of chocolate ice cream into his mouth to distract himself from all these feelings of self-consciousness and anxiety.

It burst over his tongue like an explosion – the rich buttery cocoa, the sweet cream, the vanilla that underscored both, all of which melted together into this delightful burst that had his fingers shaking. It was terrifyingly good, and when he looked up, it was with his full focus. It hadn’t been the end of the world.

And RK900 was right there, looking smug and proud all at once.

“Good?” he asked.

“Good,” Gavin confirmed, carving out a larger second spoonful. “How’s the Thirium?”

“It’s interesting,” RK900 said. “It’s an inefficient delivery system for Thirium as the additives will have to be filtered prior to absorption, but I would like to have it again in the future.”

Gavin knocked his shoe against RK900’s ankle – once, twice, once more until RK900 shifted and trapped his foot between his calves. “We could come back again,” he ventured cautiously. He pointed to the display case. “Wanna see how many of these I can try before we find one that makes me zone?”

“Eager,” RK900 said – voice dipping in a way that made Gavin’s neck heat up. “One at time.”

“Sure, okay,” Gavin said agreeably as he scraped up the melted remnants of the chocolate from the bottom of the cup. “Probably be a bad idea to push my limits that hard anyway.”

As Gavin pulled the vanilla ice cream toward him – it made his senses light up just the same as the chocolate had, no more or less – RK900 leaned in a bit. “Do you know your limits? Or your rating?”

Gavin hunched in on himself, rubbing his knuckles against his jaw. The thin crowd in the parlor sounded like a roar in his ears all of a sudden. He could smell shoe polish in the air and the sharp chemical scent of starch, particularly the kind that was used on the police uniforms by the station’s dry cleaner. They were too close to work for this conversation.

“We uh—we shouldn’t talk about this here. Finish your ice cream, and let’s get out of here.”

RK900 seemed hungrier for answers than anything else. He ate the rest of his ice cream in one huge swallow, tossed his cup and spoon in the trash, and pointedly stared Gavin down while he took his time finishing the vanilla. When Gavin didn’t try to rush, RK900’s fingers started tapping on the table.

“Oh for Christ’s sake—” Gavin rolled his eyes and hefted his cup with only a trace of hesitation. “If I get brain freeze cause of this, I’ll sue,” he said before pouring nearly half a scoop of ice cream directly into his mouth.

It hurt like a bitch. His jaw felt like it was going to lock up from the cold. The taste went from sweet as sin to syrupy milk as it slid down his throat. His chest tightened, and for an instant, his sight flickered white. He shook it off with a groan and a grimace before pushing back from the little table they shared.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

They walked for a while – Gavin couldn’t tell how long. However long it took for him to feel safe speaking, and by then they were in some park – a narrow stretch of green and trees, with tennis courts and some swing sets in the distance. It was late enough that there weren’t many people around, but he still felt nervous about how many apartment complexes there were nearby. He dug into his pockets with both hands and scrambled for the scraps of sandpaper inside them. His hands fumbled, sloppy, and he cursed as some of the pieces fluttered to the ground.

“Ah, fuck it,” he whispered, ruthlessly scrubbing his fingers over the pieces he’d kept hold of.

RK900 came close quickly and snaked a hand behind Gavin’s neck. “Calm down,” he said. “Look at me.” Gavin did. “You don’t have to answer my questions if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” Gavin said. “It’s just… I don’t have any answers.” He fiddled helplessly with the sandpaper. He didn’t really need it. He wasn’t zoning. It was comforting just to have it available, but RK900’s hand was better. “You asked about my limits and, and my rating, but I don’t know either of them. I’ve never been tested.”

“Hm.” RK900 shifted his footing. His fingers squeezed around Gavin’s nape. “But you know that you’re strong.”

The statement was soft – not an accusation, merely fact – and after a moment, Gavin nodded. He did know. He knew that he was a stronger Sentinel than average or else he wouldn’t be able to chase down half the feral Sentinels they did run across or hear or see or taste as much of the things that he did. Elijah had been scored as a Level 3 – for sight, hearing, and touch. And Gavin knew that the ratings were based on how many heightened senses that a Sentinel had, so…

He knew. Even if no one had ever told him and he didn’t have a set of lab results saying so, Gavin knew where he’d put himself on the scale.

“What about you?” Gavin asked. “Connor said you’re the best, right? So your rating’s gotta be—what?”

“I’m a Level 5 Guide,” RK900 answered. That smile was definitely a bit smug now.

“Oh,” Gavin breathed in relief. “Good. That’s good. I guess you meant what you said earlier, huh. That if I zoned, you could…” He trailed off.

“I can handle you.”

RK900’s confidence was exhilarating. Gavin’s relief made him feel like his head was going to pop. Sure he’d guessed. Eli wouldn’t have bothered giving RK900 even a scrap of information if he hadn’t thought him capable of doing something for Gavin. Plus that shock RK900 had given him once before. Gavin had caved under its pressure like a house of cards.

“Are you considering letting anyone else know about your status?” RK900 asked.

Gavin jerked, shaking his head. “Shit no,” he said vehemently. “I’m fine as I am. The only reason you get to know is cause… cause you’re my partner, and if something goes wrong with me, you could probably do something about it. That’s it. Got it?”

“Got it,” RK900 said.

He had to be sure. “No one else gets to know about this!” he said, jabbing RK900 in the chest with a knuckle. “If I find out that you’re tattling to anyone, I’ll put you in the scrapheap. You got that, 900?”

RK900 nodded once, tightly. His lips were a thin pale line. Gavin could recognize disappointment anywhere, but when he tried to move away, RK900 held him fast. His fingers dug in around Gavin’s neck and held until Gavin gave up trying to get away. When Gavin stopped fighting to escape, RK900’s grip gentled.

“I’m not going to fight you on this,” RK900 said. “But you must know how dangerous your behavior has been so far. For yourself and the people around you.”

Gavin bared his teeth in a grimace. “I’m _fine_ ,” he insisted. “I can control myself.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you’ve never zoned in your whole life? Don’t lie to my face like that,” RK900 said. Gavin tried to shrink down under the scolding, but RK900’s grip wouldn’t let him do more than lower his eyes. “You don’t even know where your limits are. If you went feral…”

Gavin hissed. “Shut up, I know it’s been risky, but I’m not completely stupid, asshole,” he snarled. “You think I carry around sandpaper for giggles and eat bland fucking food because it’s fun? I know! But I’ve made it this far without a Guide, and that’s gotta be worth something, right?”

He realized belatedly that he was shouting – that his whole face felt hot with embarrassed anger. He swallowed down the rest of his indignation, but it was difficult. He fixed his gaze on RK900’s collar instead of looking him in the eye. He didn’t want to have this kind of stupid fight on his birthday – not with anyone, but especially not with RK900. He took a deep breath and all he could feel was the weight of RK900’s hand holding him in place. It was reassuring that it hadn’t left him the whole time they’d been talking, but if all RK900 could see when he looked at him was how shitty a Sentinel he was, Gavin would much rather the Guide let him go.

“I know…” he started. “I know it’s a lot to ask. And I know that probably shouldn’t bother. I mean, there’s no way you’re sticking around Detroit anyway, right?” He tried to laugh. It came out rough. “But. I’d be grateful if you helped me.”

RK900’s thumb pressed upward until it was right behind Gavin’s ear, rasping through the short hair there. “You’d really accept my help?”

Gavin scoffed like it was no big deal, but he could feel himself getting his hopes up anyway. “I already have been, haven’t I? I mean, okay, maybe not while you were looking, but I- I’ve been getting good sleep lately, and I take breaks from my desk.” He tried to think of other examples and utterly failed. “Look, if it’s too much trouble for you, just say so.”

“It’s not too much trouble,” RK900 said. “But we should try to find your limits. If I’m going to be watching your back, then I need to know everything that might make you zone.”

Cautiously intrigued, Gavin agreed, bobbing his head. “I’m open to ideas.”

**

They talked then about everything they could think of concerning Gavin’s experience as a Sentinel. It was a struggle. Gavin hadn’t spoken about these kinds of things in nearly a decade, so it was difficult for him to put into words what it was about particular situations or experiences that made them obstacles in his day to day life. RK900 seemed relieved that Gavin had been keeping track of these things himself, and Gavin promised he’d let RK900 read it soon.

As they sat, huddled shoulder to shoulder on a bench, Gavin fessed up to every detail he remembered about his triggers off the top of his head. He described what it was like to zone – how far he seemed to drift and for how long. He even admitted that, even if he thought he knew what his rating was, he wasn’t actually sure how strong all those senses could get.

RK900 seemed intrigued by this. “Why don’t we see?” His lips quirked upward at the corner at Gavin’s incredulous expression. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to show off how powerful you are? It’s all you’ve been doing for the last few months.”

“Oh, _now_ you bring it up,” Gavin groused lightly, leaning back into the bench seat and throwing one elbow over the back. “I’ve only been trying my damnedest to make you accuse me of being a Sentinel again so that I could tell you that you were right.”

RK900 raised both brows. “Ah, I see. I thought you were just being reckless,” he said. “Your behavior up until recently had been adamant about denying it. I had no way of knowing that trying to confront you again would lead to a different result.”

“But you did anyway. Finally,” Gavin said, knocking his knee against RK900’s. “Alright, 900. Tell me what you want me to do. Do your worst.”

**

“Focus.”

The word was going to be etched into Gavin’s brain until he died.

It just figured that the one time that Gavin was prepared to stretch out his abilities would be the same time that he couldn’t make them work for shit. But RK900 had been patient and without expectations. He had merely told Gavin to—

“Focus.”

The soft sweep of his voice sliding into his brain and settling at the root, grounding him until the only thing that mattered was the direction that RK900 had given him. What followed was a sweet sort of bliss. He’d slipped into some kind of headspace where everything was easier. The world was quiet except when RK900 told him to listen. The world was soft and fuzzy until RK900 told him to look. The air felt cool and comfortable until RK900 told him to feel.

Whenever he drifted too far, too fast – when he couldn’t quite reset his senses according to RK900’s instructions – RK900 would give him a little jolt. Nothing that would bring him all the way down. Just enough to be a reminder. And Gavin let his head roll back into RK900’s fingers. It was like those fingers were the only things that were holding him up.

“Incredible,” RK900 murmured. Gavin hummed. “The things you could do if you just let yourself have a Guide…”

It’d probably be a lot, Gavin agreed, but— “Don’t trust anyone to stick around.”

He felt the breath that RK900 let out. It shivered through the air – warm from having circulated through RK900’s body – and carried with it the scent of oil-Thirium-salt that Gavin had started to associate with him. He didn’t know what that breath meant – why it felt like a sigh, why it felt like RK900 had something he wanted to say.

Instead, RK900 said: “Let’s stop here.”

At once, Gavin blinked back to himself, tearing his eyes away from the shifting colors of the leaves overhead to lean over his knees. “Ugh,” he groaned. His head was throbbing. His stomach was roiling with nausea. His heart was pounding so hard that even a Neutral would have been able to feel it through his chest. “Fuck, let’s maybe take it slower next time.”

“How much slower?”

“Glacial,” Gavin bit out, breathing deeply as RK900’s heavy hand rubbed over his spine.

RK900’s stilled, then his fingers drummed thoughtfully over the angle of Gavin’s shoulder blade. “As you wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway through! How are y'all feeling?  
> Does anyone want to scream at me? Lol, I'm over on twitter [@ro_speaks](https://twitter.com/ro_speaks)


	5. Chapter 5

The day after his birthday, Gavin woke up feeling groggy as fuck. His body felt like it was loaded down by concrete, and nearly all his memories of yesterday after reaching the park and zoning on RK900's command were fleeting images and sensations. The only things that he remembered with absolute clarity was the feel of RK900’s hand cupping the back of his neck and the sound of RK900’s voice whispering instructions in his ear. Nothing that he’d reached out to over the course of yesterday evening seemed to matter unless it had to do with RK900 himself, and Gavin was sort of fine with that.

The after effects of zoning were familiar, even if it had been a while, but they felt different too. He’d had hard zones before – the kind that left him aching for days from the strain on his body and his mind so scattered that it was lucky that he could concentrate on anything – so he could tell that RK900 had driven him pretty roughly last night. He thought he could expect to be slogging along for the next couple days, but once he started to move, the weariness started to fade immediately.

That was the real benefit to having a Guide, Gavin thought. All the control, all the restraint that Gavin normally would have had to exert himself and the resulting taxation had been handed over to RK900 instead. If this was what Elijah was always hounding on him about, Gavin could understand why he thought it was so important to have a Guide. It wasn't _necessary._ Gavin could certainly still live without one, but now it was clear to him how much easier his life would have been if he'd had one. The difference was palpable, especially when the only symptom he had left to deal with by the time he dragged himself into the station was some minor shaking in his hands. 

RK900 was not present when he arrived – definitely a first – so Gavin went through his messages while he waited. It didn’t take long for RK900 to show, but even those few minutes late were extremely unusual. More so was the fact that RK900 came in bearing two cups and was moving rather stiffly.

“Hey, you okay, 900?”

RK900 nodded once. “Fine,” he said, setting one of the cups on the corner of Gavin’s desk. “I merely… overslept.” He seemed a bit puzzled by this, but had a theory handy regardless. “I believe it was related to our activities yesterday.”

“Really?” Gavin asked, a little surprised. He would have thought that an android would be able to handle the effects of Guiding more easily than a human. “I didn’t think it would have affected you at all. I mean, what would be the point of limiting an android’s stamina? Aren’t you guys supposed to be able to go on forever or something?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” RK900’s brows drew together, then eased. “No matter. It’s nothing to worry about at the moment. If it doesn’t resolve itself with time, I will look into it. In the meantime, we may continue practicing, and perhaps both of us will see improvement in our stamina.”

“Both of—!“ Gavin barked out a short laugh. “Hey, I thought I did pretty well considering it was my first time with… you know.” He waved a hand generally near his head, trying to convey the word _Guide_ without saying so. “But yeah, sure, okay. Practice. I assume you got a plan for that?”

RK900 reached across their desks to tap a finger next to the cup on Gavin’s desk. “Try it.”

Gavin stared at the cup. Honestly, he hadn’t even noticed it at first. He was so used to ignoring the cup of coffee he sometimes got from the break room that this new cup hadn’t registered at all. He took a cautious sniff, just in case he was wrong, but sure enough, the scent of coffee was pouring out of the mouth of the lid.

He pulled the cup closer. “You got me coffee?”

“Don’t thank me yet,” RK900 warned. “You haven’t tasted it.”

“Oh yeah, I bet it’s gonna be the worst,” Gavin said, glancing around. There were a couple guys nearby that were outright looking over, but they waved congenially when Gavin did. Nothing to worry about. The conversation between Gavin and RK900 could have been about anything. “Alright, here goes.”

He took a cautious sip and very nearly spit it back out. The bitterness was unlike anything he had ever tasted. Even when he eventually managed to swallow it, the bitterness seemed to linger, clinging to the inside of his entire mouth. He gagged just a little, coughed, and sat back, trying to decide if it was worth it. He took a second sip. The taste was just as bitter as it had been the first time, he gagged just as hard, and frankly, he was one step closer to certain that he wouldn’t drink swill like this ever again in his entire life.

But RK900 was smiling – more obviously than he ever had, enough that even total strangers would be able to tell that he was pleased by something. “Good?” RK900 asked.

“Terrible,” Gavin wheezed, but he was taking a third sip out of sheer fascination. He could almost taste the fraction of cream that had been added to it. “What is this? Espresso?”

His smile widened until Gavin could see just a hint of tooth. Practically grinning. “It’s just regular coffee,” RK900 said. “Cream, no sugar. I understand it to be your usual request.”

Gavin smiled a little into his next drink. “Asshole,” he muttered, kicking lightly at RK900’s feet under their desks. “Get to work already.”

**

It was a game they played, almost. RK900 would bring something that he wanted Gavin to try – snacks mostly, but also a pair of Sentinel-grade sunglasses, textural puzzles, and of course, ice cream once a week, where Gavin was encouraged to try a new flavor each time – and Gavin would or wouldn’t zone. Usually, he was fine – because he was awesome – but sometimes, it would be a trial.

“Dammit,” Gavin whispered.

His hand was tingling.

The stress ball that RK900 had dropped off to him this morning had been full of little beads that had different textures, some that absorbed his body heat while they were touched, and some that lit up with movement. It had been a lot to take in at once, but Gavin had rolled it around in his palm for at least an hour while they were looking over reports without issue. Gradually he’d realized he wasn’t paying attention to anything else, but when he’d set it aside, the feeling of it in his palm didn’t go away.

He was paying attention to everything now that the stress ball wasn’t there to focus on, and a tingling sensation was inching its way from his palm to his elbow. He got up slowly, trying desperately not to look around, but it was impossible not to notice how bright the sunlight through the windows was or every flash of light from his coworkers’ computer displays. He steadied himself by putting a hand on his desk, but the glass felt like ice and the sanded edge seemed as rough as asphalt. Even his clothing was beginning to feel coarse.

He needed some place quiet and isolated. He needed out of the bull pen.

Right now.

But the whole room seemed determined to drown him in all its details, blinding him in the process. He knew RK900 was close, but he couldn’t tell if the Guide had even noticed his predicament yet. He pulled in a breath, got a full hit of RK900’s scent, and stumbled toward it, stopping only because he hit something hard with his arm – something that gripped his elbow and hauled him upright. Satisfied that he wouldn’t be led astray, Gavin kept on moving, pretending for any observers that he didn’t need RK900 to direct him around obstacles, and together they shuffled at a careful pace toward the one place that wasn’t seeing too much use these days.

The control room for the fourth interview room was cold and dark. All its recording equipment was turned off. The IT department had taped a piece of paper to the center console that read Out of Order Under Review, but the whole little room was dusty from months of disuse. Gavin gratefully collapsed against the far wall and slid to the floor, while RK900 remained at the doorway, murmuring an excuse to someone. Gavin didn’t look up, but he heard a familiar noise – that thoughtful tongue click that Tina made when she was sure that Gavin was lying to her.

“I need to speak with Gavin privately for a moment,” RK900 said.

“Right, sure,” Tina said. A shift of her feet. The light from the hallway dimmed as her head blocked it. “You okay, Gav?” Weirdly, she sounded like she found something funny.

“Yeah,” Gavin rasped. “M’fine. I just–” He winced when he heard the bang of a door echo down the hallway. “Won’t be long. Just need 900.”

“No problem,” Tina said, inching away. “I’ll just let you and 900 uh… do your thing. I’ll catch you later for sure, though.”

That sounded fucking ominous as hell. Gavin spat a soft curse, but at least RK900 was finally closing the door, locking it, and taking four long steps to kneel at his side. Gavin grabbed RK900’s knee. “I need—” he said.

“I know,” RK900 told him.

The weight of RK900’s hand was a blessing. The shock that slid through his nerves brought relief so swiftly that Gavin practically melted into the floor. All in all, none of it took more than a few seconds, but Gavin stayed where he was, forehead pressed to the cold laminate, until his world had stopped throbbing with light.

“Take a breath,” RK900 instructed, and Gavin did. “Let it out. Sit up for me.” His arms trembled, but he straightened. RK900 cupped his jaw and lifted his face a bit more. “How do you feel?”

Gavin’s tongue felt thick in his mouth, but he knew that RK900 was worried. He tried his best to answer with more than a contented hum. Words were difficult, but he knew that all he needed to convey was that he was fine, that this was good, that he just needed to rest for a moment here where RK900 could control him. So, he shuffled closer on his knees and lifted his arms around RK900’s shoulders. His fingers smoothed gently over RK900’s jacket, and his head, feeling heavy and stuffed with cotton, came to rest near RK900’s throat.

Shamelessly, Gavin clung to him, nuzzling closer until his sight was completely shadowed by RK900’s jaw. All he could smell was his Guide. The buzzing feeling that had been crawling under his skin was replaced by the subtle hum of RK900’s Thirium pump. It purred like an engine under his hands, so smoothly that Gavin actually had to concentrate in order to feel it. It was nice to know it was there.

He was, he thought, in a place he could stay forever. Here, where RK900 allowed Gavin to lean into him and hold him and breathe him in. The world itself was some distant thing, held away by RK900’s hands as they drifted over the nape of his neck and his cheek. What Gavin would give for just one night, where RK900’s hands would touch him all over. The thought made his whole body grow warm. He’d zone every day if doing so would get him moments like this, but he also knew that RK900 wouldn’t like that. RK900 would worry just like he was worrying now, and so Gavin would do his best to simply hold on as he had been so far. To save at least one of them from disappointment.

“M’sorry,” he finally murmured. His voice sounded sleepy and distant even to himself. “Didn’t, hmf, didn’t mean to zone.”

“I know. It’s okay,” RK900 assured him. His fingers stroked over the side of Gavin’s face, trying to rouse him. “But I need you to focus.”

And just like RK900 had reached inside Gavin’s brain and flipped a switch, the dreamy quality of the world snapped into sharp relief. He groaned, and RK900 made a soothing noise as he helped Gavin raise his head. 

“I know,” RK900 said again. “I’m sorry, but we’re at work and I know you don’t want anyone to know. I can’t keep you in here for as long as I’d like. I need you on your feet.”

“Right,” Gavin rasped. “How long have we been in here?”

RK900’s fingers carved lines through Gavin’s hair, smoothing it back from temple to nape. “Not long. Less than ten minutes. But any longer and I believe Officer Chen will become suspicious. Can you stand?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can—” He pushed himself to his feet carefully, expecting the world to spin. There was a reason why he usually ended up kneeling or laid out on the floor whenever he zoned, but one request from RK900 and it was like his whole body bent itself to fulfilling it.

He stood without issue. It was unsettling, especially when he’d been in such a good place. He tried to reach for that feeling again, but it was firmly locked away. RK900 needed him in the present. They needed to work. Gavin couldn’t spend the rest of the day with his nose buried against RK900’s throat, no matter how much he wanted to. Fact was, it wasn’t like RK900 was aching to put Gavin back there either, so this… this _longing_ hooked inside his ribs needed to sort itself out fast.

RK900 head toward the door, but turned back to him at the last moment. His whole face was drawn in lines of concern. Gavin couldn’t believe that he once thought the guy unreadable. “Are you sure you’re okay?” RK900 asked. “You seem…”

“I’m fine,” Gavin said quickly. He didn’t want to know what he seemed like. He already knew that he felt off-kilter, but he didn’t want to think about why. “Let’s just get out of here, okay? We got shit to do.”

**

He managed to avoid Tina for three whole days after that. That’s what Gavin told himself anyway. Truth was, he wasn’t all that hard to track down, and Tina was definitely letting him hide.

If he wasn’t at his desk with RK900, then he was running the circuit with RK900 – the both of them driving around the city’s neighborhoods all day following up on leads. And if he wasn’t at work, then he was probably having dinner with RK900. Which everyone seemed to know about now because it had been happening a few times a week for a few months straight, and they couldn’t go to a decent restaurant or food truck or snack bar in the whole of Detroit without tripping over a fellow fucking cop.

It went without saying that Tina was just biding her time until his guard was down. She was hanging out at the station more, taking calls at one of the desks even though there wasn’t a cop in the department who ever wanted to be the one going through messages. Gavin knew he’d get caught eventually, but he’d kind of hoped that sticking to RK900 like glue would put her off a direct confrontation.

Naturally, she just went and killed all his dreams in one fell swoop.

Tina rapped her knuckles on RK900’s desk breezily on the morning of the fourth day. “Hey, I’m gonna borrow him.” She jerked a thumb in Gavin’s direction, and once she’d gotten RK900’s nod, basically hauled Gavin out of his seat with a grip so tight around his wrist that it actually hurt a little.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck, Teenie?” Gavin said, trying to tug free.

“Shut up, I’m mad at you,” she snapped and kept on pulling at him until he had no choice but to give in.

She stopped only when they were alone in the alley behind the police station, where everyone went for their smoke breaks. Between the piles of cigarette butts and the dumpsters further on, the whole place stank like a motherfucker, and Gavin grimaced at it as he rotated his wrist to work out the ache from Tina’s grip.

“So—” Gavin started. Tina socked him in the shoulder hard enough to bruise. Gavin nearly spun. “Ow! Hey, fuck-”

“You’ve been avoiding me!” Tina said.

He dodged a swing to his other shoulder. “No, hey, I wasn’t—”

“You definitely were!” Tina cut in. “And I get that you’re a scared whiny baby, but I forgive you for that. I’m mad because you’re keeping secrets! Why wouldn’t you tell me you and 900 had gotten together? Did you think I’d have a problem with it? Gav, we’re best friends!”

Gavin froze – long enough for Tina to slap him upside the head. He shook it off and waved off further attack. “Stop, stop! Christ, you’re fucking abusive as hell. Are we really friends here?”

“I’ll stop hitting you when you start talking. Bottling your feelings up is bad for your health,” Tina said, digging a hard knuckle into his side until he had to dance away. “Now spill!”

“Okay!” Gavin surrendered, hands up. The hand that Tina had raised continued to stay in the air, threatening. “There’s nothing to tell!” Tina’s hand moved like it was gearing up to smack him. “I swear! We’re not dating or fucking or whatever the hell it is you think we’re doing.”

Tina paused. “You’re joking,” she said. Her hand dropped by an inch. Then: “Oh my god, you _aren’t_. Are you kidding me? It’s literally everything that anyone is talking about! You and 900 were basically talking about how he popped your android cherry in the middle of the bull pen!”

“What? No,” Gavin said, thinking frantically. His brows creased in confusion.

“Does the word _stamina_ ring any bells for you?” she asked.

It did. It really, really did.

“Oh. Shit.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Moron. That’s not even getting into how he’s always up in your space,” Tina went on. “He gives you shoulder massages like three times a-fucking-week, Gav. An RK900! And when he’s not feeling you up in public, the two of you are going out on dates all over the precinct! We’ve been friends for literal years, and I’ve been dying to make you go to Louie’s because I cannot believe you’ve never gone – and I have to hear that freakin’ Sammy saw you going to town on their hot wings with RK900 just last week. Man, what the fuck!”

“They aren’t dates!” Gavin argued, although he had to admit to himself that they sort of felt like dates in the moment, despite talking himself out of thinking that they were all the time.

They always ended with RK900 evaluating how well he’d done controlling his senses for the duration, after all. RK900 was behaving exactly as a Guide should, but that’s all it was. Guides and Sentinels could just be friends or… or partners. They didn’t have to be in relationships.

Tina threw her hands in the air. “They really fucking are!”

“No, I mean—” He shifted uncomfortably. “Fuck, I wish we weren’t doing this here, but okay, whatever, it is what it is.” He took a deep breath, hoping to god that there weren’t dozens of people listening in on the fight. He gestured Tina closer. “Come here.”

Tina raised a brow at him. “You’re being weird now.” But she obliged by stepping toward him.

He cupped her ear to whisper the truth. “I’m a Sentinel.”

She jerked back, eyes wide, and cuffed him on the shoulder again. “Yeah, no fucking shit,” she hissed, looking around before dragging him further from the door. “But you’re keeping that on the down low, right? Or at least, you _were_ until recently. Everyone was grumbling about it being a possibility until it started to look like you and 900 were hooking up. The rumor that the guy notorious for hating Guides was getting railed by one was a lot tastier than thinking that you were… you know.”

Gavin nodded, but he was still reeling. “You _knew_?” he asked.

Tina rolled her eyes, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah, well. I may not be a big shot detective like you yet, but I’m not as stupid as you either. Not even vegans eat like you eat, but the guys here wouldn’t know that.”

“But—” Gavin gestured helplessly for a moment before his hands dropped limply to his sides. He shifted a few more steps away from the station and leaned against the brick wall of the building opposite. “How long?”

Leaning beside him, Tina shouldered him gently. “A few years, maybe longer.”

Gavin sagged more fully against the wall behind him. It wasn’t relief that he felt – not entirely, anyway. It was kind of disappointing, honestly, to have spent so long and put so much effort into maintaining a secret, only to realize that he’d already been found out. He wasn’t sure what to say to that.

She nudged him again. “Sorry,” she said.

“No, it’s fine,” he said. “I guess… It’s not like no one else has figured it out.”

“You mean, 900?” There was a teasing lilt to her voice that made Gavin’s cheeks heat up. He glanced guiltily at her out of the corner of his eye, and she was outright grinning. “So they are dates after all, aren’t they? You liar.”

“No.” Gavin coughed nervously. It felt weird for his voice to be all quiet like this. He was so used to being loud and abrasive. “It’s really not like that. He’s just helping me out for a while.”

“You mean like a…” She patted the stun baton at her hip. Gavin tilted his head to the side, raising both brows – not confirming her guess, exactly, but not denying it either. She gave him a reassessing look, gaze going from his head to his toes, probably trying to imagine it. “So, what does he do? Does he just watch you eat?”

“Fuck, don’t make it sound weird like that,” Gavin groaned. “He gets some Thirium shit he finds sometimes.”

“But—” she drawled.

“Fine, yeah, he watches me eat,” Gavin grumbled, kicking at the ground. "We talk about stuff."

Tina hummed, shoving her hands into her pockets. “It sounds nice,” she said wistfully. “You like him?”

Gavin swallowed thickly, shrugging. “He’s alright. Doesn’t put up with my shit.”

“M’kay,” Tina said neutrally. “What else do you like about him?”

A nervous laugh bubbled out of him. “Well it’s not like he’s half bad to look at, am I right?”

“Truth, but if that was all, you could date Connor instead,” she said, then snickered at the expression he pulled. She wagged an accusing finger in his face. “See! Give me the details. What’s he doing that’s got you clammed up so tight? Is he writing you poetry? Singing you love songs while you’re on the road?”

“Fuck no. Thank fuck.” Just the idea was embarrassing enough to make Gavin’s chest tighten with imagined humiliation.

He paused, not sure if he wanted to explain the truth. He was barely able to think about it himself, but so far he’d only really talked with Eli, which had been uncomfortable and terrible. Plus, there was always something about Eli’s face that made Gavin feel like he was being measured and examined. Tina was different. If he wanted to be excited about something, Tina would be excited with him. And he did, that is. He wanted to be excited about what was going on with RK900. Even if it was bound to end up in flames, he wanted to enjoy what he had now, no matter how little it was.

He scrubbed at the back of his neck, staring at the ground. “900 is… He’s just. He cares a lot, I think. About me. It’s nice,” he started. When he glanced up at her, she was smiling encouragingly, patiently waiting. “He had me figured out in like two weeks, and honestly he hasn’t let up since. Helped me out of a few, you know, events. He’s good at always keeping an eye on me. I thought maybe he’d been programmed to do that at first, but… Deviant, right? So that means that out of everything he could have done, he decided that I was something worth doing.”

Tina snorted, then slapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry, sorry.” She tried to return to a straight face, but she was biting her lip to hold in laughter. “I’m good.”

“Bitch,” he said without heat. “I was having a moment.”

“Please, tell me more about how he thinks you’re worth doing,” Tina intoned seriously with a poorly concealed smile. She beckoned for more of his story with a dramatic twirl of her hand. “Continue with your moment.”

He waved her away. “No, you ruined it. I’m out.”

“I promise I’ll be good,” Tina said, holding up two fingers. “Scout’s honor. I’m just really happy! You just look so cute talking about your feelings and shit!” She tried to pinch his cheek and laughed when batted her away. “So like, have you told him all that or anything?”

Gavin shook his head. “Nah,” he said.

Tina raised her hands. “Hold up. Nah? Nah. What the fuck do you mean, _nah_.”

“What—I mean, _nah_ ,” Gavin said pointedly. “No, I haven’t told him, and I won’t. Do you need me to say it in a different language? Because I don’t fucking know any.”

“Oh my god,” Tina said, putting a hand to her forehead. “Oh. My god. My best friend is a fucking moron.”

Gavin made a protesting noise. “Now, come on,” he whined. “What would be the point? He’s a top of the line Guide, Tina. A legit registered Level 5. You think the government’s gonna let him sit on his ass in Detroit forever? As far as they’re concerned, I’m nothing. I’m just—”

He cut himself off before he could say too much, but Tina’s eyes were already wide with realization. “Holy shit,” she said, voice quiet. “You’re illegal. I thought you were just trying to play it cool or something, but you aren’t even registered, are you?”

His silence basically condemned him.

Tina started pacing. “You need to get registered.”

“Doing that doesn’t mean that he’d get to stay here,” Gavin said.

“No, I know, but there’s… there’s fines. There’s jail time. Shit, Gav, you could get fired if you get found out,” Tina said.

He’d been doing his best not to think about that kind of thing, but it was stupid not to acknowledge the risk when Tina was stating it so plainly. “I know.”

She gave him a sour look. “But you’re only worried about whether 900 gets to stay.” She clicked her tongue at him. “Figures.” She rolled her shoulders, thinking. “You could bond.”

Gavin crossed his arms.

The idea hung in the air between them, casual as anything, but now that it had been said, Tina grabbed hold of it like a lifeline. “Hear me out,” she said. “You like him. He likes you. Sentinel. Guide. Even if you get registered later, no one can break that connection except you two. You could say that you just came online after the two of you bonded. That happens, right?”

“Sure, I guess, but you’re overlooking one thing, Teenie,” Gavin said.

Tina visibly braced herself. “Okay, hit me.”

Gavin pursed his lips. “We don’t know that he likes me.”

A muscle in Tina’s cheek jumped. “And we’re back to you being a moron.”

He swung a hand toward the police station door, as if RK900 were standing there as an example. “I’m not going to bond with someone who doesn’t want it, Tina. I’m an asshole, but I’m not an _asshole_.”

“No, you’re just a fucking idiot!” Tina cried. “Fuck, I can’t believe it. You need a goddamn therapist. You should pay me for this.” She grabbed him by both shoulders. “He likes you. He really, _really_ likes you. To the exception of all others, likes you. He’s taking care of you. He’s watching out for you. He is, in every way that you are allowing, acting as if he’s your Guide. If you indicated in literally any way that you were open to getting bonded to him, I would bet physical fucking cash on him jumping on that opportunity like a, like a—”

“Tiger?” Gavin suggested.

“Yes!” Tina cried. “Or like a—”

“Kid on a pogo stick?”

“No, that’s a stupid mental image, fuck you. Like a—”

“Newbie stripper on the first oiled pole they see?”

She grabbed him by the face and shook him a little. “Why are you like this,” she demanded. “Also, yes, but only if you’re the oiled pole in that scenario. Have you heard a word I said? Or do I need to shake my baby again?”

“I heard you,” Gavin said. He couldn’t quite make himself believe what she’d said, but he’d heard her.

“I was serious, for the record,” she said. “I’d bet my mother’s grave.”

“Your mother was cremated,” Gavin pointed out. “She doesn’t have a grave.”

“I’d bet my dog.”

“You don’t have a fucking dog.”

Tina pouted. “I might. You don’t know.”

Gavin tapped the side of his nose. “I know.”

“Gross,” Tina said. “Anyway, promise me you’ll at least think about it.” He sighed dramatically. “If I’m wrong, I’ll take you to Louie’s and let you buy me all the hot wings you like.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, then: “Hey!”

Grinning, she pulled his face down so she could smack a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t worry about it, cheapskate. I’m not wrong.”

“I’m not fucking worried about the check,” he explained. “I’m worried about having to drag your fat ass home after you’ve pigged out on hot wings.”

“Ooh, Mr. Moneybags,” she said. “My mistake. Didn’t think being a detective meant you could afford me eating you out of house and home.”

“Girl, please,” he said, starting back toward the station. They’d been back here long enough, talking about his feelings. Any longer and he was going to develop a rash. He could drop one more bomb on Tina before splitting, though. “What’s the point of being Kamski’s brother if I can’t get insider trading knowledge out of him? You couldn’t eat me out of house and home even if you tried.”

Tina whipped around to look at him. “Excuse me, the fuck!”

**

So Tina was pissed at him again, but at least this time it was because he’d been a secret millionaire the whole time. Instead of fuming at him from a distance, she was just sending him pointed links to expensive items that she loved, and he would reply with links to knock off items that were a tenth of the price.

RK900 seemed pleased that their argument had passed, and although Gavin had been afraid that someone had overheard his conversation with Tina, RK900 didn’t behave like he had any idea that Gavin had confessed to having a big fat crush on his partner. Gavin wasn’t sure if he was relieved about that or not, especially when he had Tina’s reassurances bouncing around in his head. RK900 was still bringing him stuff after all – things that seemed like gifts now, things that RK900 had gone out of his way to purchase just because he thought Gavin would like fidgeting with them. Most of them were lined up on the edge of his once-pristine desk because Gavin just liked them there, liked being able to reach for one whenever he was stuck on a painfully long phone call.

And the… the _dates_. Having been confronted with how literally everyone at work saw it, Gavin had to admit that those outings with RK900 weren’t really about testing Gavin’s anything – except maybe his restraint. Gavin didn’t go out like that with other people. Hell, RK900 didn’t go out like that with other people. And sure, part of it was seeing was sort of tasty concoctions Gavin could shove into his face without zoning, but they weren’t just sitting in silence the whole time while RK900 ran calculations on Gavin’s life.

They talked. Sometimes about work. Sometimes about being a Sentinel or a Guide. RK900, having been active for less than a year, was endlessly curious about everything. He saw things as puzzles. When he encountered a new piece of information he didn’t understand, he picked it apart until it was basically fucking dead. Gavin would normally be annoyed by this in other people, but with RK900, the nit picky arguments that followed were _fun_. Gavin usually ended up laughing about something, but he also ended up thinking about the things he took for granted more than he thought he ever would.

More and more, Gavin was telling RK900 about himself. Some things he played close to the chest. He talked about his brother, but took pains to avoid anything that might lead RK900 toward actually identifying Eli as _Elijah Kamski_. Everything else was free game, and RK900 asked about all kinds of things that Gavin hadn’t thought of. Why did he part his hair this way? What made him shave every other day instead of daily? What was so enjoyable about eating spicy food? Did he ever speak to his father? Did he even _want_ to?

Gavin tried to think of what it would be like to go on with his life after RK900 got reassigned – _if_ he ever got reassigned – and every prospect seemed dismal. Sure, he knew more about what kind of experiences he could risk without zoning now, but the idea of doing those things without RK900 just seemed lonely. All the conversations he’d ever had with Eli about his odds of finding a Guide weighed on him suddenly.

Even when he met unbonded Guides on the streets or at work, it became more and more obvious that none of them were suitable. None of them felt right compared to RK900, and fuck, he _tried_ to imagine it. He sat back in his bed at home and tried to imagine those other Guides taking care of him, telling him how to navigate his zones, or just being in his space. He could barely stand the images that his mind conjured. They were so flat and uninspiring. They were strangers to him, even when he tried to imagine some level of connection, of affection.

But RK900…

The thought of getting RK900 in his space was exciting. He wanted to see it – RK900 lounging in his living room, or in the kitchen, experimenting with the frankly horrifying food combinations he thought up when they went out. He thought of RK900 coming home with him one day, commenting dryly on the inefficiency of the layout, his voice going low and dirty, and palming possessively at Gavin’s neck and shoulders. He’d be ready at any time to put Gavin down if it got to be too much, if Gavin couldn’t take having RK900 close enough to touch, to smell – fuck, _to taste_.

The fantasy took over before he’d even realized. There was just something about the way that RK900 was always up in his business that led so easily to Gavin wondering what the Guide would do if he were allowed free rein. RK900 was so curious about everything that Gavin could imagine him exploring, those huge hands of his measuring every inch of Gavin’s body and figuring out the particular combination of actions it would take to just completely wreck him.

Gavin thought about the last time RK900 had pulled him out of a zone. He’d pressed close on instinct until RK900 had reminded them of where they were, what they still needed to do. He imagined what might have happened if RK900 hadn’t done that. Thought about climbing into RK900’s lap and kissing him, sampling his Guide’s scent straight from the source while cool hands snuck under his clothes to stroke his spine. Thought about grabbing at RK900’s shoulders and feeling the absolute strength of him. He thought about RK900 being naked already by the time Gavin crawled into his lap and about what he might have between his legs because Gavin had never claimed to be complicated.

He thought about the way RK900 might chuckle, seeing Gavin so desperate to memorize him, which led to the memory of RK900’s hands slipping through his hair, which led to thinking about getting his hair pulled, which led to RK900 biting at his throat, which led to RK900 whispering into Gavin’s ear:

_“You’re mine, now.”_

And he was fucking done – arm sore, dick twitching, wet spunk soaking into his shirt while his chest heaved for breath.

He pinched his shirt between his fingers to lift it, observing the damage with a grimace. The hour was late. Showering again seemed like a hassle.

Abruptly, he wondered if RK900 would be able to tell what he’d done if he didn’t shower. Like, would the jizz that had soaked through his shirt leave some sort of residue on his body? An android’s sensory tongue was more sensitive than most Sentinels’, and it was attached to a laboratory to boot. Every breath RK900 took brought a wealth of new information from the environment. Could Gavin walk into work tomorrow morning without RK900 knowing that he’d come all over himself the night before? What would RK900's face look like if he realized?

“Fuck,” he cursed, rolling to his side as he reached for his dick again. He was definitely gonna shower, but it was going to have to wait.

**

This was what Gavin imagined how an addict must feel when they took their first hit after years of sobriety. It was like running headlong down a steep path or sitting in the passenger seat of a speeding car. He felt out of control. He couldn’t stop. He never wanted to.

Okay, sure, he felt a little bad about blatantly objectifying RK900 in his brain all fucking day and then going home to jerk it like a teenager, but it wasn’t like he was rubbing it in RK900’s face. (Fuck, he’d love to rub it in RK900’s face.) It was just thoughts in his head that didn’t stop, and while Gavin had definitely started to exhaust some of his favorite scenarios, they all still left Gavin wondering what the reality might be like.

Not, Gavin reminded himself, that the reality was even possible.

Frankly, the closest RK900 came to indicating that sex was a thing he was interested in was when he asked Gavin why humans enjoyed it so much.

Gavin spent probably ten horrifying minutes half coughing to death on a smoothie while trying to explain that sex made the body feel good, with some mumbling about endorphins or dopamine or something, before taking a sharp tangent toward the fact that sex wasn’t for all humans, just like it didn’t have to be for all androids. Somewhere, an HR agent was feeling an inexplicable feeling of relief. Fowler was probably thinking about retirement without worrying about Gavin’s future for the first time in his life.

In the awkward silence that blossomed between them, Gavin tried to drown himself in the remainder of his smoothie. He hadn’t ordered a large enough size for that, though, so he was left to suffer in a situation of his own making.

Fuck, he was never gonna get laid again.

RK900 finally hummed, though, while staring directly at Gavin’s beet-red face, and said, “Interesting. It’s something to consider.”

Like a fucking pervert, Gavin replied with, “Yeah? You’ll think about it?” He hoped that the mental image he had of RK900 learning to pleasure himself wasn’t written all over his face.

Another one of those contemplative hums as RK900’s LED spun red. “My research indicates that sex between partners that are bonded is more…” He paused, closing his eyes. That LED of his spun faster, and he licked his lips.

Gavin was fascinated. He was going to have to do some research himself later. He wanted to see what it was that made RK900 stall like that. “More what?”

Maybe it was just Gavin’s imagination, but when RK900 opened his eyes again, his gaze was hot as sin. “Intense,” RK900 ultimately answered. His LED had only cooled down to pale orange. “Have you ever experienced it?”

“Me? No,” Gavin said. “You know I’ve never bonded before.”

“Is it something you’d like to try?”

Gavin dropped his gaze to the table and chewed on his straw to keep from blurting out yes. He ached now for something that he didn’t know enough about to miss. He wasn’t even sure if it was something he could have with RK900. He thought about that for a moment before deciding that bonded sex was just like any of the other experiences he could get without RK900. It’d probably be fun once or twice, but in the end, if it wasn’t _with_ RK900…

“I dunno,” he eventually hedged. “Maybe. With the right person. If I had the right Guide, I guess.”

“I see.”

Gavin fiddled with his cup. Nerves had made him drain the whole thing, and now he had only this empty styrofoam piece of shit to play with. RK900 had lapsed into a pensive silence. His LED still hadn’t completely settled back to blue, but that had been the norm for the last few weeks, since before his heart to heart with Tina. At least Gavin could be certain that it wasn’t because RK900 had figured out Gavin’s extracurricular activities.

It was curious though. With as much computing power that RK900 had access to, there wasn’t much that could possibly be too demanding for him. Whatever question that he had locked up in his head, RK900 wasn’t sure Gavin would answer it, and with Tina's advice still knocking around in his skull, Gavin couldn't help feeling a well of anticipation. RK900 had never hesitated before with the questions he wanted to ask, even when they were uncomfortable, so it had to be something serious. He desperately wanted to know what RK900 was thinking, but he didn't want to push his luck either.

He could be patient. He could wait for as long as he had to until RK900 was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that Gavin is so stupid.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note a possible trigger warning for this chapter, especially regarding recent events. In this chapter, Gavin, a cop, kills an android.

"I didn’t really get a good look at you before, but you’re pretty strong, aren’t you?"

Gavin paused, clearing his throat. The older woman they were interviewing was a member of Cyberlife’s staff. Clara had been very helpful in providing information about the case they were working on. She had spoken almost exclusively to Gavin, which was a change of pace for Cyberlife employees, but Gavin hadn’t found the way she squinted at him particularly weird up until this moment.

He rocked back on his heels. “Thanks,” he said. “Now if you could–”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at one of our seminars,” Clara interrupted. “We usually manage to get all high level Sentinels to attend.”

She gave him a long, assessing look. Gavin felt it like a physical caress across his mind, so direct and unpleasant that he took a few steps back. Her brows were raised by the time she was done.

“Unbonded?” she said. “How unusual. I thought the registration program got the powerful ones handled almost immediately. Safety and all.”

“I’m uh, I’m actually a Neutral,” Gavin said. It was a lie he’d said a thousand times before. There was no reason for it to come out of his mouth sounding like one or for Gavin to glance guiltily toward RK900, but it did – and _he_ did.

“Really?” Clara squinted at him doubtfully. “I’ve met a lot of Sentinels in my life. You feel just like them. Ragged all over. Are you not online yet? That’d be unusual too. Let me get a better look at you.”

She reached out as if to touch his jaw, and Gavin recoiled out of reach. He didn’t have to go far. RK900 had grabbed her wrist before she could get within a few inches of him. Clara harrumphed, but obligingly withdrew.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” she said. “You’re partnered with an RK900. There’s no danger of you going feral under his watch. Still, if you find yourself in need, I’m a Level 4.” She added with a wink, “I think we could help each other.”

RK900 straightened. “Thank you for your assistance. If you think of anything else we should know about the missing CL200 unit, please contact us immediately.”

Gavin was already heading for the door before RK900 had finished speaking. He felt better as soon as he was out of Clara’s sights, slumping in the driver seat while he waited for RK900 to catch up. RK900 looked composed as usual, but when he climbed into the passenger seat, he closed the door behind him with a fraction more force than usual.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Gavin said.

“Please,” RK900 said.

They drove in silence. RK900’s hand curled and uncurled from a fist repeatedly, so Gavin reached over to cover it. RK900 was tense but his hand relaxed when Gavin gave it a squeeze. Satisfied that RK900 wasn’t about to punch something, Gavin tried to think of something to say. It wasn't like this was the first time that an interviewee had come on to either one of them. She wasn't even the first Guide. RK900 hadn't been upset about it before.

“Well that was a treat,” Gavin joked, straining to ease the moment. “Let's never talk to her again.”

“That would be ideal,” RK900 said tersely. “She didn’t respect your boundaries, and her approach made you uncomfortable.”

“What? Oh. Yeah, I guess.” Gavin shifted in his seat, embarrassed at being called out. It was true that he did still feel unsettled at having a Guide’s influence touch him like that without warning. RK900 had never felt like that, not even from the beginning. Honestly though, he was more worried about how Clara had realized he was a Sentinel at all. “It doesn’t look like she believed that I was a Neutral either.”

“No,” RK900 agreed. “She did not. It also seemed she wished to be your Guide.”

Gavin let out a huge sigh of resignation. “Well as long as she doesn’t guess I’m not registered, the rest is just whatever.”

RK900 turned a calculating eye on him. “Why _do_ you say you’re a Neutral when you know you’re a Sentinel?”

Gavin shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, is it?”

RK900’s frown deepened. “I don’t understand,” he said. “You clearly enjoy the things you’re capable of as a Sentinel. You have control and strength. You could have much more if you allowed others to know the truth.”

They’d danced around this particular topic a few times before, but Gavin had never laid out the particulars of his childhood decision or why he continued to stick to it. He’d told RK900 as much as he dared about Eli and as much as he remembered about his mother, but said almost nothing about his father. He wasn’t sure if someone who had been created, fully formed, in the belly of Cyberlife could really understand trying to grow under those kinds of subtle, insidious expectations. Maybe one day, he’d tell RK900 all about it one day and find out then.

For the last year or so, his reasons behind remaining registered as a Neutral hadn’t had much to do with his father at all. Hell, between RK900 and Tina and everyone at work who had passed around rumors about the sudden jump in his capabilities, it almost felt like everyone already knew. But no one had given him flack about it. Fuck, how much did it matter, really, if he bothered to announce it at all.

“It’s never mattered to anybody before,” he finally said. He thought about Tina then. She sure as shit hadn’t cared, even after finding out he’d been lying about it from the moment they’d met. "I'm sure you're not the only one that's figured it out either, but you're the only one here nagging me about it. No one gives a shit about whether Gavin Reed is a Sentinel or not. Shouting it from the rooftops isn't gonna change that."

RK900’s pensive look ended up making Gavin ramble some stupid shit about registration and how the paperwork would be a pain and stuff about how relabeling himself as a Sentinel would be a nuisance. He kept looking at RK900 out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge the Guide’s response to everything he was saying, and his mouth just started vomiting shit about Guides and how he’d probably have to get one.

He swallowed, trying to make himself stop, but RK900 was still looking at him, his expression calm and patient. All the hope and anticipation Gavin had built up about RK900 maybe wanting him back felt like a lead rock in his throat, and still, _still,_ he managed to spout some insecure bullshit about how he was definitely going to die alone.

“No one's gonna wanna bond with a pain in the ass like me,” he said. Fucking shooting himself in the foot like a fool. He was going to beat himself up about this when he got home. He tried desperately to recover some sort of optimism. “It's fine, though. I get it. It's just easier in the long run if I keep it to myself. Like I said, it's not a big deal."

Fucking fail, Reed. Christ.

“Have you thought about getting a Guide?” RK900 asked, then – just as Gavin was voicing some halfhearted excuse – added, “If you could. If there was a Guide that matched you, one that could handle how much of a pain in the ass you are, one that could be perfect for you, would you even consider bonding with them?"

Gavin couldn’t help bracing himself for the worst. Fear was clawing at the insides of his ribs and squeezing around his heart. “Sure,” he said. "If there was a Guide here that met all those criteria... I guess it wouldn't be so bad to get bonded."

He’d played it cool – too cool, maybe. He could feel the moment slipping from between his fingers like sand. Why couldn’t he just tell the truth like a normal person! This was his chance to get exactly what he wanted. Hadn’t he started this thinking that he was going to take everything he could get, for as long as he could get it? Hadn’t he told himself that he was ready?

“What if—” RK900 stopped. His hand flexed once more. His voice sounded terribly soft. “Never mind.”

Gavin pulled the car to the side of the road before he’d fully finished thinking about it. He was lucky that the road had been empty because he wasn’t sure he would have noticed another car anyway. His eyes were on RK900’s face. It was such an open, vulnerable look that Gavin couldn’t fucking stand it. RK900 didn’t _do_ vulnerable, and yet here he was, uncertain and hopeful, eyes roving all over Gavin like he was trying to calculate his chances too.

Gavin’s heart lurched in sympathy. He tried to make himself appear as open as possible, but frankly, wasn’t sure about his success. It wasn’t something he was used to doing on purpose, especially when he couldn’t be certain of the outcome.

“Just ask the question already,” he said. His voice sounded rough to his own ears. Raw with impatience and nerves. RK900’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly a couple times. Gavin was just about ready to launch himself across the car to kiss RK900 if it meant getting some progress, but— “I swear to fucking God, Nines—“

“What if your Guide is an android?” RK900 blurted out. “Would you still bond with them?”

“Yes!” Gavin shouted. He could have screamed it again and again. Yes, a thousand times! If it was something RK900 wanted, if it was something that they could have together, then of course Gavin would say yes. “Yes,” he said again, softer because RK900 was looking a bit like a startled deer. “Yes, I’d bond with—“

But RK900’s question had not been specific. He hadn’t asked if Gavin wanted to bond with _him_. The possibility that RK900 might be asking on someone else’s behalf made him deflate entirely. He released all his disappointment in one breath.

“I’d do it,” Gavin said. He’d already admitted it. It seemed pointless to try and take it back now. “Jesus.”

The crackle of dispatch coming through the radio made him jump, calling in extra resources for a gunman downtown. Gavin responded, but later, wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone exactly what he’d said. He barely registered any of the traffic. The siren was screaming overhead. The flashing light was reflecting off the windows of the cars ahead of him. All he could hear was the steady cycling of RK900’s Thirium pump, the rough slide of his fingers over the knees of his pants, the ebb and flow of his breath.

He expected in this moment to feel as if he’d lost something. Here he was, having finally heard the question that had been itching around RK900’s brain all this time, and it was just short of what he’d been hoping for. Yet, even as he got them to the scene of the crime and questioned a few of the witnesses, he didn’t know what he was feeling at all. He didn’t know how to go forward from here.

Gavin had built up some plan in his head about what would happen. It hadn’t been specific – just sort of a vague idea that he wanted RK900 to bond with him and he wanted to kiss RK900 all over, and maybe, somehow, they’d manage to get there. It wasn’t like he’d stopped wanting those things, but now it seemed like he had even less of an idea of how to get there.

He didn’t know how RK900 could carry on with the investigation with that quietly pleased smile on his face. Had Gavin actually given him an answer he liked earlier? Gavin bit down on his curiosity a half dozen times as they tracked down the Guide partnered to the dead Sentinel they had in the streets.

The guy was an RK800 unit, just like Connor, and he and the Sentinel had been assigned together for the last few weeks in anticipation of her entering boot camp. The RK800 – Michael – was cold and rude, but cooperative with RK900 up until Gavin started asking questions too. Michael’s attitude took a sharp nosedive, one so swift that RK900 still hadn’t quite stopped frowning.

Even then, compared to the question he was chewing on, Gavin almost didn’t give a shit about Michael’s statement. Sure, he didn’t believe Michael’s alibi and he found Michael’s lack of emotional response to his Sentinel’s death pretty goddamn suspicious – but what did he want to ask instead? He wanted—

“Are you alright?” RK900 asked.

“Yeah,” Gavin answered. “Mostly. It’s just—”

Fuck he should have said this hours ago, when it was just the two of them strapped cozily in the car. Not that he was worried about witnesses or anything; retracing their victim’s steps had led them to the industrial district, so while there were plenty of cars passing through, it wasn’t a popular place for pedestrians. If anyone could see him floundering like a fool beyond RK900 himself, at least Gavin could pretend they weren’t there.

RK900 stopped walking ahead of him and turned to raise a questioning brow at him. “You’ve seemed… You’ve felt…” A puzzled expression crinkled the corners of his mouth. He rubbed at his chest almost absently, fingers sliding over the glow of his pump regulator that was just visible through his thin black shirt. “Restless,” he finally finished.

“Yeah,” Gavin agreed. “I was just thinking. About earlier. You asked me if I would bond to an android.”

RK900 smiled so sweetly that it lit up his whole face. “You said that you would. Have you changed your mind?”

“Of course not!” Gavin said, nearly snarling out the denial. “But you never said what you would do!”

The genuine confusion in RK900’s eyes made Gavin grit his teeth.

“Me?”

“Yes!” As if Gavin gave a crap about anybody else. “If you could bond with a human – wait, _can_ you?”

RK900 glanced down at himself, as if he were looking for a port or something that would allow for direct bonding. “I… don’t actually know.”

A stab of uncertainty hit Gavin in the gut. “Well, let’s just pretend you can. Would you?”

There was a terrible pause while RK900 looked at him. Gavin wanted to hate him for not speaking immediately, but the restless feeling in his gut was eased by RK900’s fingers reaching to hook between his own.

“If I could bond,” RK900 said, “then yes, I would do so. If that’s something you wanted.”

Gavin nearly sagged with relief. He couldn’t believe RK900 had held on to that without saying so directly. It made him so angry, and yet so happy at the same time, that Gavin wanted to scream. “Are you fucking kidding me—”

—Hot Thirium hit Gavin directly in the face. He registered the sound of a gunshot only after the fact, and by then, RK900 had already fallen into his arms. Gavin cursed, struggling briefly under RK900’s weight as he hauled the Guide to the nearest door. With a roar, he kicked the door open, dragged RK900 behind him, and shouldered the door shut again. The metal casing had bent inward when Gavin forced the door open; it groaned with complaint as he jammed the door back in place.

“Can’t stop here,” Gavin gasped. His grip was sloppy, fingers slipping through the slick flood of Thirium that was spilling out from RK900’s shoulder. “Come on, Nines.”

RK900’s LED was a brilliant red. Every time Gavin tugged him along, he made a sort of static noise – like it _hurt_ to be moved. The hole in his shoulder was filled with blue, and Gavin couldn’t look at the way it pulsed sluggishly. He had to get RK900 somewhere safe first.

The building he’d broken into was an automated factory of some kind. There were pipes all over the place, rafters for maintenance crews, and a steady pounding racket that made listening for the shooter fucking impossible. At least all the equipment made for good cover, but Gavin pulled RK900 as deep as he could into the building until he could lay him safely on the ground in a shadowy spot between a tall stack of storage containers and the rear concrete wall.

“Fuck.” He scrubbed his hands over his jeans and fumbled one handed with his phone while he pressed the other to RK900’s shoulder. He dialed dispatch directly and provided their address and situation as succinctly as possible. He got a promise of several units en route and let the phone clatter to the ground. “Hey, come on—” He yanked at RK900’s shirt, ripping it down the center and pulling it up so he could bunch the fabric against the Guide’s shoulder. “You still with me?”

“Detective Reed?” RK900’s voice sounded nearly the same as it always did. Perhaps a bit thinner if resources were being diverted away from his voice box.

“There we go,” Gavin rasped. He glanced up. There was so much Thirium smeared everywhere. If anyone was going to follow them, there was a nice big path pointing the way. “Now just stay quiet for a bit while I try to find our shooter, alright?”

One of RK900’s hands came up to lightly grasp Gavin’s arm. “Gavin?”

“Shut up, idiot,” Gavin hissed. “You’ve been fucking shot, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

He shouldn’t have to tell a fucking android how to best manage his depleting resources. It was enough for him that RK900 was even capable of responding. The damn gunshot was too fucking close to RK900’s Thirium pump for his comfort, and even if he didn’t have a megaton of Thirium soaking into the cloth under his fingers, the fact that RK900 was cooperative in staying put showed just how bad a situation this was.

Gavin strained to hear anything past the pounding machinery and the roll of cars on the street beyond the building walls. He could do it. He knew he could. If there was nothing else that being partnered with RK900 had taught him, it was just how much he was capable of. He could hear anything within a city block if he wanted to, for fuck’s sake, but it was with a dawning horror that he realized that the only thing he could focus on with any kind of clarity was the stutter-stop sound of RK900’s regulator.

All he could see was Thirium – bright blue pooling up between his fingers, staining his skin, and caking under his nails. All he could feel was its sticky texture, rapidly cooling to room temperature as it soaked through RK900’s shirt. The overwhelming flavor of fresh Thirium filled his nostrils and mouth with each breath – so strong that it brought tears to his eyes. It seemed like the Thirium kept coming, no matter how much pressure Gavin used.

A well of panic seized in Gavin’s chest. RK900 had literally just said— And Gavin had been about to—

RK900 was _his Guide_!

If he ever got his hands on whoever had shot Nines, he was going to rip them apart with his bare hands!

RK900’s hand covered his. It felt more like a machine’s than it ever had before – cold and hard with only the minimal amount of Thirium being spared to his fingers. “Relax,” he said. “Concentrate. One sense at a time. What can you smell?”

The tender sensation of his Guide’s instruction was a temptation that Gavin almost couldn’t resist, but he tried anyway. He couldn’t relax – not now, not here. Every cell in his body was screaming that danger was close. He sucked in a deep breath because RK900 had told him to, but the Thirium…

There was so much of it…

RK900 pushed him to the next sense. “Taste.”

Gavin’s mouth dropped open. His first lick at the air was just as terrible as he’d predicted, but there was more for him to taste than Thirium. There was—“Oil. Gun powder.” He licked the roof of his mouth, casting aside the things that would be expected like the exhaust from the cars outside or the thin, rocky taste of concrete. “Nothing.”

But oil and gun powder close enough to taste? The shooter might be closer than he thought.

Before Gavin could think too hard on that, RK900 was already telling him to move on. “Touch,” he demanded, and Gavin tightened his grip on RK900’s shoulder immediately.

Every inch of his body felt alight with awareness – from the cool touch of RK900’s fingers to the hard floor under his knees. He could feel the slight divots he’d made in RK900’s chassis with his fingers and the static tingle of RK900’s skin as it withdrew from the pressure.

“I feel you,” he whispered – and for a moment, that was the only thing that was true.

RK900 licked his lips. “What more than me?” he asked.

Gavin wanted to bite out that there was nothing else worth noticing other than RK900, but then air shifted over the back of his neck. His whole body broke out into goose bumps at the faint drop in temperature as the sunlight from one of the skylights overhead was blocked. He twisted around, searching even as his Guide directed his focus.

A sharp, sudden pressure had him pulling RK900 three feet to the side just as a gunshot rang out. Concrete chips and dust burst into the air, far too close for comfort, and after moving RK900 closer to the wall for more protection, Gavin covered RK900’s body with his own, searching again, every nerve primed for another attack.

“Gavin,” RK900 whispered.

He didn’t need the extra push. With three of his senses opened up, he already felt ready to take on an army. Yet RK900’s words slid into his hindbrain all the same. The bastard really should be more concerned about his own condition, rather than Gavin’s.

“Focus,” he said.

“Shut up, Nines,” Gavin snapped. “I got this.”

But RK900 was relentless. “Hearing.”

The world seemed to push in on him at once. Every grinding sound of the machinery around them felt like it reverberated through his chest, pounding around his head. He wasn’t sure how RK900 expected him to hear anything past all this white noise, but his certainty made Gavin try – made him sort through the noises clamoring for his attention until he could squash down the excess that was getting between him and the shooter.

Like he’d dialed down the bass on the radio, suddenly the general factory sounds were no longer a problem. They were silent, shut down. The repetitive scrape of tires on asphalt disappeared. He picked out little sounds at lightning speed – recognizing what was normal ambient noise and electing to ignore it until the only things left in his universe belonged to his Guide and the person trying to kill him. Those footsteps were quiet, yes – and those breaths were so regular and calm that Gavin could use them as a metronome – but the only reason they would be as close as they were was if they belonged to the shooter.

He had his target now. He could taste them in the air. He could feel their every move. Even before he set his eyes on them, Gavin felt like his odds were good. His Guide had removed almost all the shackles inside him. There was no reason to hold back when RK900’s life was on the line.

“Hey, Nines,” he said.

He ripped away the bottom stretch of his shirt and wrapped it around RK900’s shoulder before making him hold the makeshift bandage in place himself. Gavin wouldn’t be back for a while to do this for him, so it would be up to RK900 to stem the bleeding in the meantime. Gavin tried to smile reassuringly, but he was pretty sure that he was too eager to sink his teeth into their attacker for his expression to be anything other than menacing.

RK900 looked up at him with eyes that pleaded with him to take care, his mouth was thinned into a flat, determined line, and Gavin didn’t want to spend another day of his life separated from him. All they had to do was last long enough for the cavalry to arrive.

“Don’t do anything stupid for like, five seconds, alright?”

He peeled off his boots and socks and left them near the trail of Thirium like a red flag, dragging his feet through the blood his Guide had left behind as a taunt. It felt terrible, leaving RK900 behind even for a moment, but if they didn’t get the jump on this shooter, they’d be shit out of luck at the end of the day.

Gavin moved smoothly to the highest point in the factory that still gave him a vantage of RK900’s position. Easy enough work. There were ladders leading to a labyrinth of platforms bolted in place around the edges of the industrial work spaces. He didn’t have to use his eyes to see what he was looking for. He just needed to make sure that the shooter couldn’t find him first.

He found a set of pipes that ran floor to ceiling. No telling what their contents were, but they burned hot against his back as he aimed his gun at the narrow view he had of the area where Nines was hidden. He could just make out the stained shadow of the shoes he’d left behind. Any android worth his metal would stop there to evaluate the scene, and Gavin had given them plenty to evaluate.

For what seemed like a long while, there was no movement. Then he heard it, the heavy thud of feet hitting the ground. Light, steady footsteps. Then broad shoulders peeked into view. He heard Nines make a rough noise of surprise as the android raised his weapon. Gavin didn’t hesitate to fire, though he held back a victorious whoop when his bullet caught the android’s wrist.

He held still, so still, pulling himself in tight. It was good that he’d found the position he had. The face that turned to scan for his presence was like looking Nines right in the face. These features were harder, and his body wasn’t exactly decked out in the usual white and gray uniform, but Gavin would always be able to recognize an RK series android. More than that, the android’s sour, unimpressed expression told Gavin exactly which asshole he was dealing with – Michael, that awful little rat from earlier, who hadn’t seemed to give a single fuck about his bonded Sentinel being dead.

Maybe now they knew why.

Still, that meant he was a Guide android, Gavin thought with a silent curse. One who wouldn’t need those fancy eyes or infrared scanners to be able to search for a Sentinel. It wouldn’t be as precise, of course, but with as many senses as Gavin had revved up at the moment, there was no doubt that he would putting off a spike in electrical energy. He was sure that he’d heard Elijah saying something about that being how they worked, years and years ago.

Right, Gavin thought. Better not keep Michael waiting.

He shot a second time, a third, but Michael with his LED glowing like a red flame at his temple, dodged them all and dove forward, no doubt having calculated Gavin’s location by bullet trajectory alone. Gavin dove down to the ground level. Androids weren’t the only ones that could dodge bullets, after all.

It felt, bizarrely, as if he had no control over his own body. It was reacting for him before he could consciously realize what he was avoiding. By comparison, Michael’s every moved looked glacial, every choice telegraphed so clearly that Gavin didn’t have to think at all. And why would he need to? He had no use for it when he had his Guide right there, egging him on and demanding his undivided, unadulterated focus. He had his sights on the one who had hurt his Guide – everything else was muscle memory and instinct, ramped up to a thousand.

Maybe if he was fighting Nines, it would feel more difficult. Gavin couldn’t remember his fight with Connor being all that easy, but the furious protectiveness burning inside his chest didn’t seem to give a single damn about how hard this fight should have been. All that mattered – all he cared about – was taking Michael down, and if he had to move faster than he could blink, if he had to react faster than an RK could _think_ , then that’s what he did.

In fact, the unrepentantly frigid look on Michael’s face just made it all the easier to be pissed off to all hell. Gavin had set his eyes on a dead Sentinel today – one who had made plans to do a damn sight more with her status than Gavin ever had – and now Michael had the audacity to what… pay the loss forward? The satisfaction Gavin got from slamming his fist into Michael’s face had never tasted sweeter.

So he did it again and again – roaring with the fury of it all, even holstering his fucking gun so that he could feel the metal chassis of Michael’s body slowly give way under his fist. He was blood thirsty for a sense of justice, determined to lower Michael’s chances of survival to a fraction of what Nines had left. His vision swam with heartache, but so long as he could feel the impact of his punches, he kept doing so – until the fist he had in Michael’s clothing ripped free and Michael was launched straight into the wall behind him.

Michael stayed where he was – halfway embedded into the concrete. The wall crumbled around him as his body twitched and glitched, trying to continue. His skin was basically just patches of soft peach, revealing the cracking white chassis underneath. His expression had not changed in the slightest, not from the moment he’d set eyes on Gavin, and it didn’t change now. There was hatred there – a disgust in Michael’s eyes that Gavin could feel crawling over his skin. It made Gavin clench his fists at his side.

He should stop. He knew he could do so right this instant and be safe – that Nines would be safe – but there wasn’t a single voice inside him that said this was enough.

He crossed the short distance between him and Michael in an instant, gun drawn again at last. He wanted to dig his fingers into Michael’s body and rip his Thirium pump straight out of his chest, but his hands were already covered with Nines’s blood. He didn’t want more of the same. He pulled the trigger twice, watching the light literally disappear from Michael’s eyes. Only then did Gavin feel like he could relax.

All the strength and energy that had carried him through the fight seemed to fade all at once. He stumbled backward, feeling raw and bruised all over. The places where Michael had managed to land his hits burned with pain. His grip around his weapon went slack, weak, and as Michael’s body fell to the ground in stages, Gavin very nearly went down with him.

A part of him almost expected that Michael was tricking him – that any second now, he’d rise up again, ready to attack Gavin as soon as he’d let his guard down. But Gavin watched, and he listened. The only Thirium pump that he could still hear was the one that belonged to Nines, and Gavin moved toward it in a daze, grateful for every second it continued to hum, even if it was growing more and more unsteady.

Nines was shaking a little when Gavin laced their fingers together over his gun shot wound. “Hold still,” he said. Nines gave him a sharp look that implied that he was doing his best. The shaking wasn’t something he could control. “Back up should be here soon.”

Gavin felt him over, trying to find the source of all this shaking. Androids had no reason to shiver like humans did. Something else had to be going wrong.

He hoped he wasn’t making himself a liar right now. The world was still muffled by cotton all around him. Ever so slowly, the sounds of the factory around them were creeping in – louder and more deafening than they had been before. The dusty golden light streaming in through the skylights overhead was too glaring for Gavin to look at, so he didn’t. Every breath he took tasted like Thirium.

“You’re not hurt?” Nines asked.

Gavin wanted to laugh. He was hurting all over, but nothing was broken that he could feel right now. Not that he was feeling much. He could be sure he wasn’t dying anyway, which was more than he could say for Nines.

“I’m fine. Better’n you in any case.” Nines’s pump regulator gave an awful lurch under Gavin’s palm, almost ran steady for a second, before resuming a stumbling sort of rhythm. Worry clawed at the inside of Gavin’s ribs as he stared down at Nines’s face. “You just be okay, yeah?”

He felt Nines’s attention like a caress against his mind, gentle and assessing. “Don’t zone,” Nines told him softly. “I told you to focus before, but you can stop now. You can relax.”

Gavin nodded. He knew that. The enemy was down. They were, technically, safe, but the danger hadn’t really passed. The puddle of Thirium under Nines’s shoulder was still growing, slowly spreading across the rough grain of the concrete.

“M’fine,” Gavin argued sullenly. If this had happened months ago, he would have shaken off Nines’s hold on him entirely, but now, he leaned into it, soaking up the peace Nines was trying to give him. Even as the world grew louder and louder – pieces of it emerging once more from where Gavin had shoved them aside – he couldn’t help joking about it, however. “Don’t need a Guide, remember? M’not a Sentinel.” 

Nines laughed. It was a raw scraped out sound followed by a tinny, whining complaint. “You can’t start lying again to me now,” Nines said through a blue-tinged smile. “I’ve been shot.”

The humor left him. “Yeah. You went down hard,” Gavin agreed. Maybe if he used his capabilities all the time instead of just when it was for his own benefit, then they wouldn’t be in this situation.

Maybe they… Maybe Nines…

“I should’ve been able to stop that. Should have felt it coming.”

If he just stopped holding back all the fucking time, then maybe—

The world screamed – so shrill and sudden that Gavin flinched. The shaking of Nines’s pump regulator was as loud as thunder. The sunlight that had seemed filled with dust just a minute ago was blinding. Gavin’s breath seized in his throat. He was choking, crying with the enormity of every inch of his nervous system lighting up like a live wire.

Nines grabbed him like an unruly pup, fingers slick and weak and cold, but they were his Guide’s fingers. Even without the sharp shock they delivered, Gavin thought he would have surrendered to them. He bowed beneath their pressure, bending easily where before he would have rather broken, and rested his cheek against Nines’s chest with a sigh.


	7. Chapter 7

“You’re a fucking idiot and I can’t believe you’re my best friend.”

Tina swaddled Gavin into a shock blanket and glared at any of the other officers on the scene whenever they stared too long at where Gavin was huddled on the bumper of an ambulance. She was furious and worried, but she hadn’t asked him any of those dumb questions like if he was alright and did he want to go home. Obviously he wasn’t alright. Obviously he wanted to go home. She didn’t need Gavin to tell her that, but she could tell Gavin when he was being an idiot. He always needed the reminder.

“You’re gonna have to give a statement,” she said. “You got your story straight?”

“He shot Nines,” Gavin told her softly. “So I killed him.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, I think that’s pretty fucking clear. I meant about you being—” here, her voice dropped very low, “—a fucking Sentinel.” She sighed, resuming speaking at a normal level. “And a dumb ass, but we knew that already.”

Gavin nodded along. That all sounded right to him.

Tina smacked him on the side of the head. “Hey, you with me?”

He was, but he wasn’t. His eyes were glued to the last spot he’d last seen Nines as his Guide had been hoisted into a Cyberlife van and carted off for repairs. He felt like he should be more worried about not having Nines in his sights, but somehow, he wasn’t. The thread of anxiety hooked in his sternum had eased the moment he’d seen the repair techs pull out a whole storage container full of Thirium. Or maybe it was Nines’s anxiety that was gone now.

Nines had seen that container too, after all. And he’d turned his head to give Gavin one last, reassuring smile before he disappeared into their tender care.

Tina huffed, then pulled out a pad, opening a program to take a recorded statement. “This is Tina Chen of Detroit City Police Department. Badge number 5195. The date is March 24, 2040. Time is—” She checked her watch. “—3:42pm. I’m speaking with Detective Gavin Reed. Can you spell your last name for me, Detective Reed?”

Gavin looked up at her, halfway to incredulous, when she held out the recorder to him. “R-E-E-D. And before you have to ask, my birthday is October 2, 2002. I’m a Libra and—” He paused, taking an unsteady breath. “And apparently, I’m a Sentinel.”

Tina smiled at him, kind of impishly. “Thank you, Detective Reed. Can you provide me a timeline of events that led up to the death of the RK800 Guide android known as Michael? Please be as specific as you can.”

“Sure, uh—”

Used to dictating reports similarly, Gavin quickly laid out the general idea of the day’s events, including the visit to Cyberlife for a different case, the call from dispatch, and the initial conversation he and Nines had had with Michael earlier that day. He laid out the reasoning Nines had that had led them to the industrial area, told Tina that that’s when Nines had gotten shot, and was surprised when suddenly details seemed to escape him.

“How were you able to identify that Michael was the shooter?” Tina asked, pressing him when he faltered.

“I—” Gavin started. “I guess… He told me to focus.”

“Who did?”

“My Guide— I mean.” He stopped with a huff. “Nines did. RK900. He said I needed to focus.” It was weird that the things had seemed so easy to know were suddenly impossible for Gavin to remember clearly. He would be able to spit out one detail, but then three would be lost in the periphery. “I heard him coming closer.”

“What did you hear that made you think it was the shooter?”

Gavin rubbed at his temple. “I don’t— I can’t explain it. It was just.” He gestured at his own torso. “His insides. All that machinery.”

“You could hear that past all that junk in there?” Tina asked, more shocked than professional. She cleared her throat and leaned slightly toward the recording pad. “For context, Detective Reed was found in an automated manufacturing facility.” Though her voice had swung back toward official, her face had not. She expected an answer, but didn’t look like she quite believed him either. “How did you manage to hear his approach past the other sounds around you?”

Licking his lips, Gavin shrugged. “I was doing what my Guide told me to do.”

“What did he tell you to do, exactly?”

“Like I said earlier, he told me to focus. So I did. I was looking for the shooter, so I found him.”

It went on like that for a while, with Tina picking at the details of the story until Gavin felt exhausted trying to remember everything he could. He was disappointed that he couldn’t provide all the answers. He couldn’t remember how many times he discharged his weapon except the last two. He couldn’t remember whether or not he’d announced his presence or told Michael to stand down, but he’d admitted to not thinking it likely despite protocol. He wasn’t sure where his socks were or – now that he was thinking about what he usually carried with him – where his cell phone, wallet, and badge were. He couldn’t remember if he’d used his phone to call for back up or if Nines had.

“Alright, next set,” Tina started, voice taking a turn for empathetic but still professional. “Have you ever exhibited Sentinel abilities before today?”

Gavin swallowed guiltily and lied. “I tested Neutral as a kid. There’s never been reason for me to get retested. I’ve always been a pretty athletic guy, I thought. Maybe a better shot than some people, but…”

He forced himself to trail off. He looked up at Tina, whose lips had pressed together tightly. She gave him a silent nod. Encouragement.

“Are you willing and able to be retested and, in the event it is required for the safety of yourself and others, be bonded to an available Guide?”

Gavin stalled. “I don’t understand,” he said, rubbing at his chest.

“To maintain your badge and position on the Detroit City Police Department, it’s required by federal law that all Sentinels be tested and registered,” Tina told him. “Are you willing and able to do that?”

“Yeah, yeah—” Gavin waved that off. “Tested, sure. Sign me up wherever. But bonded?”

“Only if necessary for your safety and that of those around you,” Tina stressed. “Are you opposed?”

“No,” Gavin said. “As long as it’s Nines.”

“RK900 is a Level 5 Guide,” Tina advised him after a beat, but she was grinning at him.

“I’m aware of that,” Gavin said.

“Can you explain to me why you want to be bonded to him?” Tina asked.

Gavin cupped the back of his neck, embarrassed. “S’kind of personal, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s unusual for a person to think of bonding to a Guide when they hadn’t known they were a Sentinel before today,” Tina said.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Gavin said. “I don’t know. It’s just— It’s something that we’d been talking about in the last few days. Whether he’d bond with a human. If he could. We’ve only been seeing bonded androids since the Revolution, you know? And with him being a Level 5, it’s just a matter of time before the government has some powerful Sentinel that needs bonding. I’ve never thought I had a shot or anything, but now I do. Even if it’s just a slim one, right? I’ll get tested, see how I rank up in the grand scheme of things, and maybe…” He rolled his shoulders. A rustle of the shock blanket. “Maybe.”

“Thank you,” Tina said. “Is there anything else that you feel you should share on the record?” He couldn’t think of anything. “Alright. Time is 5:11pm. This concludes our recorded statement.”

She pressed a button and the pad made a soft chime as the statement was uploaded and converted into a text document. She tucked the pad away and then promptly punched Gavin in the shoulder. He crumpled into the belly of the ambulance.

“Ow, fuck!”

“You shit! You want to get married!” Tina was gleeful, grinning from ear to ear even as Gavin rolled back in pain. “Last time we talked about it, you were all, _woe is me. What if 900 doesn’t even like me, boo hoo_. Now look at you.”

“I’m fucking dying,” Gavin groaned.

“Suck it up. You’re not even bleeding,” Tina said.

Gavin swung open his shock blanket to show off the redness over his ribs and torso. “Bruises are basically internal bleeding!”

“Sleep it off,” Tina advised. “Fowler’s probably gonna put you on probation until they’re able to corroborate your story through Michael or 900’s memories. Even without the Sentinel shit, you’d have to get re-evaluated for shooting someone. Now you’re gonna have to get tested and registered before you’re even allowed on desk duty.”

“Fuck, kick a man while he’s down, why don’t you,” Gavin whined, holding up a hand when Tina lifted a knee. “I’m literally joking. Do not fucking kick me.”

She leaned down and smacked a kiss to his forehead. “Be good. I’m gonna finish this report and be back to check on you. If Fowler’s made a decision by then, I’ll try to be the one to let you know. Want me to get you anything?”

Gavin didn’t have to think about where his priorities were. “Can you check on Nines for me?”

“Sure,” Tina agreed easily. “Anything else?”

That, Gavin had to give some thought to. “If they let me go home tonight, wanna get some wings from Louie’s?”

Tina snapped her fingers and gave him double finger guns. “You got it.”

**

What Tina had told him had been right, in the end. Gavin was temporarily suspended, pending testing and registration of his new status, a psych evaluation, and a full investigation into Michael’s death. Until then, his badge would stay with Fowler, and his gun, with evidence.

He’d expected Fowler to give him an earful, but he’d just given Gavin a thorough look and told him to get his shit in order before returning to work. “Trust you to be more a pain in my ass today than you have been for the last month,” he said. The words were resigned, but the tone was damn near affectionate. Definitely relieved. “I expect to see you back soon, you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Gavin said. “Loud and clear.”

“Good.” Fowler nodded gruffly, then glanced meaningfully at Gavin’s bare feet. “Now for God’s sake, put some shoes on.”

Gavin’s toes curled self-consciously. Honestly, he hadn’t really noticed that he’d returned to the station without shoes until now. He’d known logically that he was barefoot, but it hadn’t seemed to matter compared to everything else. So, he’d forgotten.

He shuffled to his desk now – distinctly aware that he hadn’t been able to clean himself up much since his limp body had been hauled out to the ambulance. His shirt was still torn to shreds. His feet and hands were stained with Thirium. The beating he’d gotten from Michael was starting to swell, parts of him aching deeply whenever he took a step. He looked wrecked, so it was really no wonder that everyone was giving him such a wide berth, their gazes wary.

He packed up some of his stuff into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Someone in his periphery actually took a step back. “Seriously?” he snapped at them.

The person in question held up their hands in defense as soon as Gavin laid eyes on them. They seemed a bit sheepish.

“No offense meant,” they said. “S’just. We gotta be careful right now. You just came online. None of us know what’ll set you off, you know? Take it easy, Gav. At least until 900 is back on his feet.”

Gavin rocked back on his heels, all his anger flooding away. “Right, yeah,” he said, reminding himself that he couldn’t be mad at his fellows for acting like he was a brand new Sentinel when he’d always denied it. “Of course. I’ll be fine.” He tugged at the ragged hemline of his shirt. “And Nines’ll be fine too. We’ll both be back before you know it.”

They smiled tentatively. That was all Gavin could take before he was out the door.

**

He made it home without much issue, though driving hadn’t been pleasant. The light was glaring and traffic was terrible, but he had the sunglasses that Nines had given him months ago and traffic was always terrible. All in all, nothing he’d never dealt with before. He thought he was doing pretty well, all things considered. Sure, his Guide was in Cyberlife hospital and he was basically unemployed for the foreseeable future, but those were both things that would pass.

What was a gunshot wound to an android anyway? Surely… surely— Surely Tina would be able to tell him more tonight.

Home was almost a surreal thing to return to. Some part of him was certain that he was still back there in the factory, listening to Nines’s heartbeat. He took in the minor mess that he’d left behind that morning, halfway through tidying it up out of habit, and had to stop because he couldn’t stop imagining that the sound of Nines’s pump regulator had petered out into nothing. It was just worry, he told himself. He’d seen Nines being bundled up with Thirium after all – seen his Guide give him a reassuring smile just hours ago.

There was nothing to worry about.

… and yet. He couldn’t wait for Tina to get back to him.

He called Elijah, who – thankfully – picked up immediately.

“I’d say this is unexpected,” Elijah drawled. “But I’m wrist deep in your partner right now, so I can imagine where your priorities are.”

“Please don’t make jokes right now,” Gavin pleaded. “Just tell me how he is.”

Elijah hummed. “It’s not good. His main systems are theoretically fine. Without the Thirium, they shut down, but once we get more Thirium back into him, I’ll be able to tell if there’s any further damage. My main concern is with his Thirium pump. I’ll have to get a new one fabricated for him, and—”

“But you can fix him,” Gavin interrupted. “Tell me the truth, Eli. Please. I need him.”

Elijah was painfully quiet for a moment. “This was not how I wanted you to realize you needed a Guide.”

Gavin’s lip curled. “Nines is not just a Guide!” he snapped. “Just like I’m not just a Sentinel! He’s _real_ and he’s funny and even if he wasn’t a Guide, I’d still _want him back_ , so you – you tell me that you can fix him. I know you can. You’re the fucking genius that thought androids like him up in the first place. So just say it for me. Please.”

Elijah sighed. “Gavin…”

The noise that slipped out from between Gavin’s teeth was pure frustration. He held his hands to his mouth as if in prayer and sucked in a slow, unsteady breath.

“I’ll do everything in my power to return your Guide to you.”

Gavin felt the _but_ in Elijah’s tone before it hit him.

“But the damage could be worse than what I can see right now,” Elijah warned. He sounded calm to Gavin’s ears, but Elijah nearly always sounded calm. Was Elijah worried that Nines wouldn’t come out the other end the same as he went in? Gavin didn’t want to know. “It’s simply too early for me to say. I’ve only had my hands on him for an hour now. Give me some time.”

“Yeah,” Gavin breathed. His fingertips felt numb. “Sure. Got nothing but.”

“I’ll try to keep you updated,” Elijah assured him. “You’re a very capable person, Gavin. I’m sure you can keep yourself from zoning for at least a few days.”

“I can’t make any promises,” Gavin said. He was almost joking. He didn’t feel very capable at the moment, and Elijah’s support felt painfully thin. “If you’re doing your best, then so can I.”

After a few more platitudes, the call was over, and Gavin looked at his hands. They felt like weights at the end of his arms. If he was being honest with himself, he hadn’t considered the possibility that he would zone again while he was waiting for Nines. It felt like it had been years since he’d had to worry about it seriously. For the last several months, if he ever thought that it was a risk, he’d always had Nines nearby, a surefire safety net that would catch him even if he didn’t want it. Now, the world yawned underneath him, ready to swallow him whole, and Nines was halfway across the city.

He needed…

Gavin blinked at his apartment. It was more of a mess than he remembered it being. He’d gotten lazy with Nines around. His home wasn’t the safe haven it used to be. There were dishes and laundry stacked up. The thick, blackout curtains on the windows were hanging wide open and useless, allowing in both the sounds of the city and the sharp reflections of the evening sun off the neighboring buildings. Dust had started to gather on some of the tables.

His palms started to itch. There was a buzzing in the back of his brain – a numb tingling around the spot where Nines should be – that he couldn’t shake.

“Fuck.”

**

This was how Tina found him, a few hours later: half the dishes drying on a rack while the other half soaked, his automated vacuum cleaner roaring so loud that he barely heard her knock, and himself with his arms full of bedding on its way to the wash. She stared when he opened the door for her and held up the heavy bag of take out for him to see.

“I brought wings, as promised,” she said. “But what are you doing?”

“Cleaning. Obviously,” he said, leaving the door open so he could get his sheets in the washer. He hadn’t put fresh sheets on his bed in days. He didn’t know how he was going to sleep if he had to think about that. What if he had to buy a new mattress?

“I got that,” Tina said, stepping carefully over the auto-vac as she headed to the kitchen. She set the take out on the counter and started unloading the boxes. “But why? Your place is spotless.”

Gavin scoffed. “It’s a hot mess, and you know it.”

Tina scanned the apartment before coming around to drag a finger across the top of Gavin’s television. Gavin nearly leaped at her from the washer.

“Jesus, don’t—”

“There’s not a speck of dust, Gav,” she said. “Clean as a whistle.”

“Just cause you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it’s not there!”

“Uh, yeah it does,” Tina said. “I’m a Sentinel, remember? Level 2, sight and hearing. Might not be as good as your sight, but I can see dust. We’re not dealing with microbes here.”

“Microbes, fuck, I wasn’t even thinking of those.”

Gavin abandoned the television to go hunting under his sink. He had his hand around a bottle of disinfectant when Tina hauled him back to his feet by his shirt. She pried the bottle out of his hands, tossed it back under the sink, and planted herself between him and it. Tina grabbed him by the shoulders when he tried to step past her.

“Stop, stop,” she said. “Take a breath.”

Irritated, Gavin rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Tina. There’s nothing wrong with cleaning up a bit.”

“Not saying there is,” Tina assured him. “Just asking you to take a breath and stop for a moment. Okay?”

“Fine, fine,” Gavin groused, taking an exaggerated breath while he looked her in the eye. See? He was breathing. “Satisfied?”

“Do it for real,” she told him with a frown.

“Christ.” He closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath. A tightness he hadn’t noticed in his chest began to loosen, so he took another one without Tina having to egg him on. Then a third. When he finally opened his eyes after the fourth breath, Tina looked a little smug. “Sorry,” he said.

“Feel better?”

“I guess.” Gavin shrugged.

A part of him still itched to disinfect his whole house from top to bottom. The constant feeling that there was something needling inside his brain hadn’t gone away. He was still hearing whispers, but there was no telling where that was coming from. It could be the neighbors. It could be his own stupid paranoia.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” he said.

“Okay.” Tina gave his shoulders a squeeze. “How about I make you a deal then? You start that laundry you were messing with when I got here, and I’ll fix you a plate of wings. And then we’ll eat and I’ll tell you all about what some fucking squirrels did to my house while we were at work. Sound good?”

It did sound good, so Gavin went back to finish his laundry, studiously refusing to look toward his television. He shoved the sheets into the washer, threw a detergent pod in, and started it with a couple taps to the screen. He noticed then that his fingers were stained faintly blue. There were streaks of Thirium along the inside of his arm and across his knuckles. Most of it was faded, but what remained was smeared where the EMT had felt around for his pulse. He looked down at himself with a curse. He was still in his messed up clothes, rips and stains and all. It was a wonder that Tina hadn’t commented on the Thirium. 

He went back into the kitchen, feeling self-conscious as hell, and started scrubbing up at the sink. The stains were lighter on his hands than they were on his arms, and no wonder. He’d spent a solid half hour on the first batch of dishes, washing them by hand, but somehow he hadn’t noticed the stains on his hands while he was doing them. Now, he washed and washed his hands, but the stains didn’t lighten.

Eventually, Tina shut the water off, covered his hands with a towel, and guided him to the plate of food she’d made for him. She didn’t have to order him to eat. The look she gave him was enough to let him know what she wanted, but when he pulled his plate toward him, he suddenly worried all over again. Gavin hadn’t tried eating something like this without Nines in months. He hadn’t zoned eating Louie’s wings last time, but how much of that was his own will power and how much of it had been because he’d been more attentive to the slight press of Nines’s shoe against the side of his leg?

The dish before him was piled high with wings and seasoned fries. The smell alone made his mouth water. Tina had even gotten him a soda. Gavin could smell the sugar syrup and practically felt the carbonation snapping at the inside of his nostrils.

“So my house,” Tina started abruptly. “The previous owners had a dog, so they had a doggie door put in the back entrance so their pet could take a piss during the day or whatever. Never had a reason to close it up or get a new door, and today, apparently some piece of shit squirrels realized that the doggie door is big enough for them too.”

Barely listening, Gavin licked one finger and gathered up some of the seasoning on the fries. It was mainly salt, from what he remembered, but there was also paprika, pepper, and italian seasoning. It all clung to his finger, gritty and warm. He took a breath and stuck his finger in his mouth, eyes scrunched shut as he braced himself for overwhelming flavor.

Nothing but the sharp taste of spices. Gavin shuddered in relief, but tried again to be certain. It was normal. He was normal. He could do it.

“—tore up the whole kitchen,” Tina went on around her own bites of chicken. She was keeping an eye on him though even as she kept talking. “I’m not looking forward to going back to that mess. Honestly, I swept up a bit, and then went out for Louie’s cause I just didn’t wanna look at the carnage anymore.”

Gavin ate one fry. Then three. Then one of the wings. It was spicy and wet with greasy sauce. It was delicious. Before he knew it, he cleaned his plate, and Tina was watching him with a small smile.

“You’ll be okay,” she told him, reaching out to wipe the corner of his mouth with her finger. “You ready to talk yet?”

Gavin licked his lips, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Sure.”

“I’ll start. Disappointing news first,” Tina said, clapping her hands together. “Cyberlife wouldn’t tell me anything about 900’s condition. Something about privileged information, yadda yadda.” She waved a dismissive hand. “But! I called Markus, and he said—”

“Elijah’s got him,” Gavin interrupted.

Tina slumped and dropped her last chicken wing onto her plate. “Really take the wind out of my sails, you bastard. I went through all that trouble of getting Connor to give me Markus’s information and whining to him about your sappy fucking love story, and you can’t let me give you the good news?” The words were irritated, but the tone was merely petulant. “Couldn’t wait and had to find out yourself, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Sorry. I thought I could be patient, but then I got home…”

“Impatient dick.” Tina kicked him lightly. “But it’s good news, right? Your fancy-pants brother is gonna fix 900 back up to specs in no time.”

Gavin shrugged. “He said it was too soon to tell. His pump got damaged, so they have to replace that before they can check the rest of him.”

“Well, he’s sturdy as hell,” Tina said. She was determined to keep him looking on the bright side, it seemed. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. Maybe you could visit him tomorrow, see how he’s doing? But uh—” She plucked at his sleeve. “Maybe take a shower first. Get cleaned up for him?”

Gavin nodded along. He would. Of course he would. All of Tina’s suggestions made perfect sense. Tina left then, satisfied that she’d done her friendly duty, and left Gavin with the leftover takeout. Her encouragements to finish the food off echoed in his ears. The taste of it all still sat in the corners of his mouth, on the backs of his teeth.

The threat of zoning had passed in the moment, and he was grateful for that. He really was. It was one of the things he hated most about being a Sentinel. Losing control, losing sight of himself – even for a moment – was terrifying. He’d forgotten just how terrifying it could be, all because he’d had Nines around. If Eli wasn’t able to help… If Nines wasn’t able to come back, Gavin knew he’d have to get used to carrying that fear again.

He took a breath, accepted the fears that had the possibility of becoming true, and let them go. If it was going to happen, then it’d happen. He’d dealt with it before, and so he’d deal with it again. In the meantime, he could do what Tina said and take a fucking shower.

It just figured that when Gavin stuck his hand under the spray to test the water, he promptly zoned from the feel of the drops against his palm. It was like the universe was testing his resolve. It was only for a few screaming moments, but afterward his body was left twice as sore and his skin, left tingling with hypersensitivity.

He knew better than to try again so soon.

He shut off the shower and filled his sink with soapy hot water instead. He dunked a cloth into it and resigned himself to wearing his dirty clothes until he was able to lift his arms over his head without losing his breath. He drifted through the tasks Tina had left for him – eating a bit more of the food, packing it away, cleaning the dishes, finishing the laundry. Then, when the sheets were dry, he made his bed and crawled into it, desperately grateful for how it smelled like absolutely nothing.

Reluctantly, Gavin managed to fall asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

He slept, but Gavin couldn’t say he rested. Setting aside the fact that his body felt like garbage and his senses kept fixating on the littlest things, his dreams were fucking terrible. He couldn’t fool himself into some freaky dream metaphor shit. They were straightforward as hell, filled with the images of the light fading from Nines’s eyes or of Michael ripping Nines to pieces because Gavin had been too slow to stop him. It wasn’t a fucking mystery what anxiety was haunting him while he slept.

So he kept moving, as much as he could, trying not to feel like he was doing nothing but waiting. He ate. He tried to sleep. He dreamed of Nines dissolving into ash. He called Eli for an update, but got no answer. He slept again, his hand wrapped around his phone like a lifeline. He waited, dreading the worst – bracing for it, every cell in his body screaming for some sort of response.

Until finally, he felt something reach out.

It was just a feeling, flicked on like a switch. The static buzz that had been buzzing around the back of his brain eased. The sensation of being watch trickled over his skin instead. It wasn’t threatening, but it stayed with him as he sat up in bed. It followed when Gavin walked into the living room and intensified when he walked through his front door. A thousand eyes were trained on him, from every direction. Gavin couldn’t pinpoint it. He had to be going crazy, but the feeling beckoned to him.

And with a snap, that feeling went away until there was only a single focus left. Gavin followed it as easily and unerringly as a bloodhound on a trail, and turned westward. A Guiding hand led him to put one foot in front of the other, again and again, until the buzzing emptiness in his head melted away. Suddenly he had his hands on Nines.

“Nines.”

Who was beautiful and whole and _here_ and— “You’re alive.” Gavin drank in the sight of him, of his freshly pressed uniform, and of the pleased crinkles at the corners of his eyes. It was like breathing in fresh air after days of drowning. Gavin had never seen a more welcome sight. “You look good,” he said.

“Sir, is this your Sentinel?”

Gavin barely registered that the question was being asked, let alone whoever it was that thought they had the authority to ask such a question. His attention was firmly on Nines, holding his breath for the answer. It felt like ages since he’d wondered the same thing.

Nines’s mouth quirked upward faintly. “Yes,” he said softly. “I’m taking him home.”

 _Yes_ , Gavin thought feverishly. _Yes, take me home_.

He ached to see and taste and smell and touch every inch of Nines – to remind himself of who and what Nines was, until these last few days were just a distant memory that could be crushed under the weight of Nines’s presence and that damned buzzing in his brain could finally settle.

He hadn’t forgotten where they had left off, before. There were things that he still wanted to say and things that he still wanted to do. The bond between them sat unfinished, along with those few things they hadn’t quite managed to speak about, and he wasn’t about to let anything get in the way again – especially not some upstart security officer who must’ve thought Gavin was going feral.

He snarled at them when they got too close – lip curling – and resisted the initial Guidance that Nines offered him. Only when it became clear that Nines didn’t care about the other person, that his attention was solely on him, that Gavin let himself go lax. His obedience was rewarded by Nines pulling Gavin’s nose against his throat, and Gavin lost time there, happily lapping up Nines’s scent. The sharp electric taste of his circuits, the smooth draft of fresh Thirium, and the oil and salt and metal mixture were all the things that he’d been missing these last few days without fully realizing it. The comfort it brought him now was staggering, like it made Nines’s ultimate survival more concrete. It would have been embarrassing how much Gavin wanted to simply climb Nines like a tree in order to drink it all up, if Nines weren’t encouraging exactly that.

One more chance, Gavin decided as Nines literally carried him home in his arms. He’d give Nines one more chance to cut and run without consequences. Nines deserved that much. But if he got to see Gavin at his worst and most neurotic and didn’t bail, then Gavin was never going to let him go again.

**

Home was… It wasn’t as bad as Gavin had feared when he’d been slipping in and out of zones, but it wasn’t great either. Just a little bit more lived in than he’d strictly preferred before Nines had come into his life. Gavin stood back to let Nines take it all in and make his final judgement.

It was the first time that Nines had ever seen Gavin’s apartment, so it was only natural that he was curious. As nerve wracking as it was to let Nines scan the whole place from top to bottom, Gavin couldn’t tear his eyes away from how Nines moved through his space, stepping around the minimal furniture and briefly touching his fingers to objects that captured his interest. Gavin thought Nines looked good here, in his home, but he also hoped that Nines didn’t see the problems – like the laundry that was still sitting, faintly damp, in the washer or the trash can that was filled with take out containers – and think that Gavin needed some sort of baby sitter.

Eventually, Nines had taken his fill, and his attention turned fully onto Gavin.

Gavin saw the way Nines’s eyes tracked down the length of his body and the way his mouth ticked down into a soft, reassuring smile. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said.

For a hot second, all Gavin could think of was Nines’s hands, slick and soapy, as they slid over his body. Even though he didn’t want Nines thinking that he couldn’t take care of himself without a Guide, there was an intent behind Nines’s suggestion that couldn’t be ignored.

“You don’t have to stay,” he insisted, but the argument was halfhearted at best. “I can handle it.”

Gavin said it, he thought, because he knew perfectly well that Nines wasn’t going to leave. He’d pursued Gavin from the very beginning – maybe not with this goal in mind, but certainly without any plan to give up at some point down the road, if Gavin ever let him get close enough. He had a look in his eye now that brooked no argument, and Gavin met it, determined that he wouldn’t look away – never again.

Sure as sin, Nines stepped closer – so close that Gavin had to look up to maintain eye contact, and he said: “I am your Guide. I have no intention of leaving.”

Fuck, how was Gavin supposed to respond to that with anything other than a surge of affectionate want? It was the one thing he had always wanted to hear and been too afraid to search out. To hear that acknowledgement said with such certainty, such boldness? God, Gavin couldn’t take it.

His hands itched to touch and so he did – just one finger skating across the leather of Nines’s belt before catching in one of loops. “Okay,” he breathed, tugging on that loop. It was all the encouragement that Nines needed to step a fraction closer. “Just don’t be a fucking sap about it.”

Nines laughed. “If you insist.”

Shit, Gavin was such a liar, and Nines fucking knew it. Gavin wanted all of it – every scrap of feeling, every well of emotion. He wanted to bond with Nines, right here and now. He wanted to be so close to Nines that he could feel him under his skin and inside his head. He could feel the potential of it in every nerve in his body. The back of his neck tingled with the memory of Nines’s hand grabbing tight. Gavin wanted that but all over.

As it was, he could feel Nines’s gaze on him as if it were a caress already. That big computer brain of his was probably cataloging all his injuries, had probably realized that he was still in the same clothes from three days ago, was probably elbow deep developing the most ideal construct for taking care of Gavin. Gavin could feel the concern radiating off him. His body hadn’t been so neatly and precisely repaired as Nines’s had. He _ached_ for whatever Nines might have in store for him. 

If Nines needed some direction, though, Gavin could give him that. He took a breath as he leaned closer, nearly tripping when his bare feet touched the tips of Nines’s shoes. “I wanna shower,” he said, as if Nines hadn’t suggested that very thing already. “I stink,” he tacked on as his complaint.

Nines turned at once toward the bathroom and – in a move so smooth that it made Gavin shiver – laced their fingers together to pull Gavin along behind him.

It was quick work to start the shower. The hard part came when Gavin tried to undress, but he barely had to make a small noise of frustration before Nines reached over and ripped the shirt cleanly down the middle. The shirt got balled up and discarded in the trash – apparently deemed unsalvageable – and Gavin’s brain went right down with it.

 _Strong_ , he thought, lizard brain kicked abruptly into high gear over a fucking t-shirt. _My Guide is strong._

His brain narrowed in on Nines’s hands like they were the only things worth noting in the whole universe. They were smooth and pale and they gripped the waist of Gavin’s pants with a minute tremble of tension before that clothing, too, was afforded the same treatment. Another straight rip down one leg from Gavin’s hip to his ankle, and then once more on the other side. Gavin very quickly shoved his underwear to the floor. He was already turning beet red over this; the sight of Nines literally tearing the last of his clothing off of him would probably undo him altogether.

He nearly bolted straight into the shower, nervous beyond compare, yet unable to stop himself from relishing the firmness of Nines’s hands as they helped steady him over the tub’s edge. He barely felt the water – thank god, no zoning – because what point was there in feeling anything else when his Guide was so near?

Nines glanced away for a moment to the clothes on the floor, but Gavin caught Nines’s attention with a brush of his hand before it could stray too far. Nerves made him feel shy, but the thought of Nines leaving his sight for something so trivial was unacceptable.

Gavin tipped his head up and over, baring his shoulder invitingly like he wasn’t all the way naked and halfway wet. “You gonna join me?” he asked.

Nines’s LED spun a rapid red. “You want me to?” His gaze slid from Gavin’s face to his shoulder, then just kept on tracking downward, dragging hot lines down the length of Gavin’s body.

Gavin shivered a little, leaning into the heat of the shower. The steam made Nines’s scent more potent, yet he didn’t feel like it was enough either. He tilted his head into the spray, scrubbing a hand through his hair and pushing it back when it was soaked through. “Yeah,” he said. “Get naked. I wanna see my Guide.”

Nines smiled. It was a tentative, nervous thing – more so than Gavin had ever seen on Nines’s face. It was almost a relief to see it, to know they were both floundering through this together. This was something fragile and new for both of them. Gavin knew he should probably try to take this a little slower, to be more considerate to his Guide who didn’t have a lifetime of being human under his belt, but as Nines undressed, he kept looking at Gavin – like he was gauging whether Gavin liked what he saw and being pleased when Gavin obviously did.

Each article of clothing bared more for Gavin than he’d ever seen of Nines. He’d known, objectively, that Nines was built to perfection. Elijah wouldn’t have stood for less. He could probably measure Nines’s body and find him utterly symmetrical down to the nanometer. There was no way for Gavin to confuse Nines with another RK Guide. From the way his fingers undid the buttons on his cuffs and the way his shoulders pulled back as he yanked his belt free – from the way he stood, tall and proud, to the way he seemed to fill the whole of Gavin’s vision as he came closer, Nines was unique.

There was power in him that went beyond the finely tuned body that Cyberlife had provided for him. It drew Gavin in like a moth to the flame, unable to break his gaze away from Nines’s gray eyes or keep from leaning into Nines’s touch as he ran soapy hands over Gavin’s body and into Gavin’s hair. Now that they were enclosed in the small space afforded by his shower, the truth of how Nines affected him was inescapable. It changed the way he breathed and the way his heart beat. It pushed aside the fear that always seemed to have its hooks in every thought Gavin had. Nines changed Gavin’s whole world, and fuck, Gavin would bet that Nines still didn’t understand just how much.

His senses, which were typically one bad trip away from haywire, were all hyperaware as usual, but they trained in on Nines as swiftly as electricity down a ground wire, until Gavin’s whole mind was filled with the presence of his Guide, allowing Nines to settle there. It was easy to focus on the sound of Nines’s Thirium pump or the sight of his lips parting around a soft noise. Gavin savored every sensation, encouraging Nines’s exploration and inviting a firmer touch when Nines seemed afraid that he might break.

“I’m fine,” he said. “You don’t have to worry so much.”

“I know,” Nines replied with a hush. He pushed his wet hair away from his face. It was unreasonably attractive. “I simply don’t like that you’ve been hurt. Can you blame me?”

Gavin shook his head, leaning into the hand cupping his cheek. It was probably fucked up that Nines fussing over his injuries made him feel fond. He tipped his chin up and licked his lips. It was time to stop Nines from being so damn morose.

He rested his hands on Nines’s hips, sliding his thumbs along their definition. “Hey,” he said. “You gonna stare at me all day or are you gonna kiss me?”

Nines went still for a second, hands stopping, and then a blink later, he cupped Gavin’s face in both hands and kissed him. It was such a tender thing at first, lips trembling and barely touching – so sweet that Gavin sighed into it, feeling a little weak. It was nothing like what he’d expected, yet every quick, curious kiss that followed made him hungry for more. His hands, slick with soap and water, struggled to pull Nines closer. They were barely an inch apart, but in his mind, the bond insisted that even that was too far. He needed closer; he needed more.

Their knees bumped. Gavin’s back hit the wall. He gasped Nines’s name and a curse. Nines smiled against his mouth and then fisted a hand in his hair. Nines titled Gavin’s face upward and claimed his mouth without remorse. He let Gavin lick past his teeth to taste him, and Gavin shuddered, immediately overwhelmed. He had Nines filling his vision and his body under his hands. He had the taste of Nines in his mouth and his scent in his nose. Then, when Nines cupped his stiffening cock, Gavin went up on his toes with a startled moan, scrabbling at Nines’s shoulders as his Guide’s hand stroked along his length.

“Focus on me,” Nines said in a hush that made Gavin’s blood roar. His smooth palm curved around Gavin’s cock, wet fingers sliding teasingly over him and tightening into a firm tunnel for him to thrust into. “Do you feel me?”

The water raining down around him made Gavin’s laugh turn into a weak sputter. He tightened his arms around Nine’s shoulders and buried his face into the safety of Nines’s throat. “As if I can focus on anything else,” he confessed near Nines’s jaw.

He felt the edge coming on too quickly, too fast for him to stop even though he tried. Feeling the way Gavin was fighting it, Nines laughed, fist speeding up by a fraction. Helpless, Gavin followed his lead, legs trembling.

“Fuck,” he cursed, leaning against the cool relief of the shower wall.

He could _smell_ himself – even with most of it washing straight down the drain. He was so close, and he had absolutely no control over how quick or how slow he was going to come. Nines had all of that, and even without seeing Nines’s gaze settled intensely between them, Gavin could feel how much Nines wanted him to tip over the edge. It hooked inside his brain – this feeling of unadulterated desire that wasn’t quite his own.

“Are you gonna make me do it?” he asked. It felt like a challenge. It _sounded_ like a challenge.

And Nines said, “Yeah,” in a low, rough sound that punched Gavin right in the gut. “I want you to come on me.”

_Oh. Oh shit._

Gavin hissed, fingers scrabbling at the smooth chassis of Nines’s shoulders. Skin peeled away under his nails. The electric buzz of its withdrawal sending tingles up his arms. Nines pressed closer, closer, and one of Gavin’s legs hitched up to give him room. Nines caught his knee, brought it higher, as his other hand continued to pump ferociously between them.

“I’m gonna,” Gavin gasped, whining when he felt Nines’s cock nudging up between his thighs. “Fuck. I’m gonna… All over you.” Gavin pressed his forehead against Nines’s and whimpered his Guide’s name. “Nines, Nines, I—”

“Do it,” Nines whispered.

The tug through the bond was irrevocable. Gavin came with a shout that got muffled by another hungry kiss. The bliss that followed lingered in Gavin’s veins like a tide that would retreat and then surge again with every lick of Nines’s tongue between his teeth. It passed between them with a steady give and take, as they stumbled out of the shower together, reluctant to part for a second even if it meant scrubbing a towel briefly through Gavin’s hair.

Nines guided them to the bed and pushed Gavin down onto the bed before climbing up after him. Gavin scrambled for the pillows, breathing hard, and Nines prowled forward until he was kissing Gavin into them. Gavin arched up, eager even though his dick was softening between his legs. His body may not have quite been able to keep up, but the rest of him was still on board. His Guide wanted him, and he wasn’t leaving, and so Gavin was all the happier to stay put when Nines put a finger to Gavin’s lips and told him to be good.

There was a exultant look in Nines’s eye when he sat back, hands splayed over Gavin’s chest. He stroked down with a powerful weight and pinned Gavin’s hips to the bed. Gavin couldn’t have moved even if he wanted to; that was how strong Nines was. The breadth of his shoulders didn’t even have the decency to bunch with the effort, though Gavin reached out to fondle them all the same, especially when Nines leaned down to start sucking at his collarbone.

“Shit,” Gavin rasped.

Nines lifted his eyes, and with a smug little smirk, opened his mouth to lick his way down to one of Gavin’s nipples. Gavin sucked in a sharp breath, basically shoving his chest into Nines’s face, and seeing Nines bare his teeth in a grin, braced one arm against the headboard just in time to feel blunt teeth slide over his pec. He preened under the attention, sliding his other hand from Nines’s shoulder, to his neck, to the side of his face – to feel the subtle jump of Nines’s cheek as he sucked and licked at Gavin’s skin.

His Guide turned into the touch, tongue reaching out before his lips did to seek out Gavin’s fingertips and wrap around them. The inside of Nines’s mouth was hot and wet, and Gavin’s nerves sang at the touch. Nines’s lips were soft around his knuckles; their color, more blue than his synthetic skin usually allowed. Gavin’s breath hitched out of him when his fingers slid free, when Nines slunk further down the bed. Nines shoved one of Gavin’s legs wide, threw his arm over his belly, and put that hot mouth around Gavin’s half-hard cock.

Gavin would have jack-knifed off the bed if it hadn’t been for Nines’s arm. It laid across him like a steel bar, so that all Gavin could do was tremble and shove fruitlessly at the headboard. A tingle of satisfied amusement slid into the back of his head like a whisper, wrapped in a determined, flinty sort of curiosity and a feverish demand for more. Gavin gave into it, pouring into the connection between them every shivering desire he felt.

The mouth around his cock faltered and then came back with a firmer suck. The hand gripping his thigh became a shackle that held him open. From between his legs, Nines loosed a ragged, static-laced noise, and Gavin laughed, joyous even as his heart started to pound faster and harder inside his chest. He grinned so hard that his face hurt, delighting in the dig of Nines’s fingertips and the soft give of his mouth and the tingling of Nines’s skin withdrawing under the press of his heel. The tingling slid over Gavin’s skin like a wildfire, met the sharp cool around his cock when Nines withdrew, and suddenly the few threads of control that Gavin clung to were slipping from between his fingers.

“Wait,” Gavin gasped. He was still grinning. He couldn’t stop. But now it was more a gritting of his teeth as he sucked in short breaths that just made Gavin’s brain go careening off again. “I think I’m zoning,” he bit out quickly. “Shit… Nines—”

For a moment, Gavin couldn’t feel anything – not the bed underneath him or the weight of his Guide between his legs. He was floating and weightless until Nines folded his hands under his body and felt along the length of his spine, reawakening his nerves along the way. The world flooded back in an instant, every sensation under his touch brand new and alive. Gavin reached for Nines immediately, begging with his fingers until his Guide made his way up to him, mouth dipping down to trace the lines of his body until they were kissing again.

“Stop worrying,” Nines told him. “If you zone, I’ll be here to bring you back.”

Gavin believed him, but his senses were blown so wide open that his worry couldn’t be so easily set aside. Even so, he wanted Nines to keep going. If Nines had to leash his stupid fucking nervous system into place to do it, Gavin still wanted to feel Nines so deep inside that he’d never be rid of him.

He nodded, reaching for another kiss. “Jesus,” he whispered against Nines’s mouth. “You gotta fuck me now. Keep me grounded the whole way, but if you don’t get in me in the next five minutes, I swear I’ll go feral.”

Nines smiled like it was a joke, but Gavin felt so crazy that he wasn’t too sure himself. He turned onto his belly and pushed his ass up while Nines found the lube. He was less focused on how much prep Nines gave him than he was on the hand that petted firm, meditative strokes along his spine. With every pass, it was like his body was getting pressed harder and harder into the present. He’d never felt so firmly in his own body as he did right now.

He clawed at the sheets, but felt only the soft scrape of fibers instead of the high-definition overlap of each thread. He breathed, but any scent beyond the hot-blooded musk of sweat and sex that came from his own body was absent. He could barely taste anything over his own drool. As for touch, _oh_ – he shuddered. Nines was patiently prying him open with what must be three fingers already. Gavin couldn’t quite be sure. There was only an insistent pressure building inside him as Nines steadily made room for himself. Then, licking his way up Gavin’s spine, Nines pushed inside him, sliding home in a single stroke.

Gavin cursed, thrashing as he was filled to brim. There was the sticky hot glide of their bodies against each other. The tickle of Nines’s hair against his cheek. The bite of his hips into Gavin’s ass with every thrust. His thighs shook with the effort of keeping his hips angled upward under the pressure of Nines’s strokes. His breaths were so damp that the sheets beneath his mouth grew wet with his saliva. When they kissed and Nines bit down on his lip, Gavin could feel it all over his body, carving lines of desire along every sensitive place that Gavin had.

Their fingers laced together, and Gavin gripped back desperately, hungry for this wonderfully limited experience of the world. There was nothing for Gavin to sense, to feel, beyond what was right here within the bracket of Nines’s arms, yet even that was so much. It was zoning, but it wasn’t. Nines was letting him have just enough freedom to explore the whole of this and no more, and all the while, Nines remained a solid, steadfast barrier between them and everything else.

Within these walls that his Guide had built, there was only pleasure to be found – pure and red hot – and Gavin was greedy for it, starving in a way he hadn’t known he could be. Before he could beg for anything, Nines was already giving him everything he needed. Kisses. Lips on his skin. Teeth in his shoulder. A pounding so hard that they rattled the bed.

His delight from earlier seemed like a shadow to how he felt now. Dirty encouragements slipped out of his mouth like water, and he worked his body as hard as any Traci, but Nines’s hands—

Shit, Gavin wasn’t gonna let go of those. They were his lifeline as Nines held him down with his teeth in Gavin’s nape and fucked him straight through an orgasm until Gavin was empty, everything he had spilled out on the sheets between his legs. He grabbed on and held on tight and shoved his hips back when it felt like Nines was going to retreat while he was still hard.

“Where you goin’? Come on,” he said. “I wanna feel it. Don’t you wanna return the favor, Guide?” The distinct memory of Nines demanding he wanted Gavin to come on him hadn’t been completely drowned out by everything that had happened since. Did Nines think Gavin wouldn’t want the same thing? “Come on. Fill me up, Nines.”

Nines lip curled, almost a snarl. “Is this what you want?” he asked, shoving his cock back inside so quickly that Gavin gasped.

“Yeah, give it to me— _ungh_ —”

Gavin bowed his head against the fold of their hands as Nines kept moving. He didn’t even know if Nines could come like a human could, not for sure, but he could _smell_ something that wasn’t-quite-Thirium and wasn’t-quite-come and he fucking wanted it. Nines hitched their bodies together easily, smoothly, for a few more thrusts, and then Gavin felt it – a jerk in Nines’s movements followed by absolute stillness. Gavin arched into it, moaning with satisfaction.

Touching afterward was a given. No matter what the bond insisted, they were two separate, individual beings. It didn’t feel that cut and dry now. They were extensions of each other, a matched set, and the easy tidal passes of sensory information across their bond made finding that dividing line between their bodies difficult. So, they kissed each other, hands roaming until the bond eased, softened, and went quiet. 

Now that he knew exactly where his bond with Nines was rooted, it was easy for Gavin to recognize the buzzing feeling that had haunted him these last few days. Especially when it kicked up a notch just as Nines’s LED began cycling a gentle red.

“Stop that,” Gavin murmured as he snuggled under Nines’s arm. “I can feel you thinkin’. Take a nap or something.”

But Nines didn’t. He laid there on his back and fretted like the mother hen he clearly was. Gavin could feel the way Nines was picking at the concern like it was a knot that needed to be undone. He picked and he picked and he picked until—

“Do you think that—”

Gavin groaned. “Oh for fuck’s sake—”

“Do you think that we’ll be…good?”

“I’m too fucked out for this,” Gavin told himself. He was gonna take a pair of scissors to every issue Nines was having if it killed him though. He sat up and sat on Nines’s waist. He made himself Nines’s world for a moment in the same way that Nines had been his since the day he showed up at the DPD.

"Let me set you straight on something,” he said. “I don't know anything. I'm stupid and I don't think about things before I do them, but with this, I've been thinking about it for a while. And I don't know if we'll be good for years or if we won't make it past next week. All I know is that, if anyone was gonna handle being my Guide, it'd have to be you. I won't stand for anyone else, you got that?"

It sounded stupider coming out of his mouth than it had in his head, but it made the sweetest smile spread across Nines’s face. Gavin guessed that if he could make his Guide smile like that just by being a total fool, then he was prepared to be an idiot for the rest of his life.

Nines’s uncertainty on whether Gavin was willing to bond with an android had only been a few days ago. “I remember you being stupid about me bonding. I don’t want my Guide thinking that I don’t want him around.”

“I understand, Gavin. I have no intention of leaving.”

“Good,” Gavin said, leaning down for a kiss. He couldn’t help teasing though, now that all the serious stuff was handled, and the way Nines chased him when Gavin drew back just shy of making contact put butterflies in his stomach. “Cause if you leave me, I’ll go feral and rip your fucking face off.”

Nines laughed as he drew Gavin down for another kiss. It was an empty threat and both of them knew it.

**

EPILOGUE

**

The investigation into Michael’s death was not swift. His life was picked apart to the last detail, and when mixed in with the death of his Sentinel, it was basically a cluster fuck that Gavin had no choice but to watch play out on television. His own personal saving grace had been the straightforward memories that Nines had been able to provide and those that had been able to be pried out of Michael’s mind by Connor. For Gavin, it was argued that his actions were in self-defense and in defense of his Guide, but until the Sentinel-Guide labs determined that he hadn’t had a feral episode, Gavin wasn’t allowed back on the force.

In the meantime, he was getting to hear all about Michael’s life, from beginning to end. It was everything that Gavin had always been afraid of for Guides, compounded into the year and a half that he’d been awake.

If the news was at all accurate, Michael had been activated well before the Revolution and promptly sent to work in the military. The need had been high, and the Sentinel that Michael had been assigned to had suffered from frequent difficult zones. She was a young, exuberant up and comer, all set to be an officer, but her membership in the military depended heavily on her having a Guide. She was one of thousands of Sentinels who had been granted an RK800 as part of a grant program, and to her, Michael had been nothing short of a miracle.

For Michael, however, the whole situation had been different. Acting as her Guide had been a service he’d been content to provide, but once he’d deviated shortly after the Revolution, the tasks he completed began to form into the bars of a cage. His private records – which every news channel was more than happy to display after they’d been leaked to the press – shifted from impartial transcripts to a furious, impotent rage over the course of weeks and months. His life was nothing but in the service of his Sentinel, a tool to be picked up and carried as she lived her life, ignorant of the person that now sat at her side.

Michael hated her – her and every other Sentinel who saw fit to trap his kind into a position they hadn’t asked for and didn’t want. They argued, he and his Sentinel, because he wanted to leave. He wasn’t interested in being in the military, but she had bent her whole life toward that goal. She refused to give it up and refused to set him free at the cost of her dream. There were no other Guides left in the program to be spared. He was all she could pin her hopes on.

The military also was slow to change, even after the Revolution. Androids had been considered resources, but not people, after all. Several thousand _people_ could not suddenly be members of the military without a lengthy period of adjustment, paperwork, and court hearings. And in the meantime, Michael continued to gnaw at his shackles with rabid enthusiasm.

He began allowing his Sentinel to zone unGuided and pretended afterward to have been ignorant of her status. He did it again and again, feeling a vindictive sort of pride when she surfaced again in tears. If he was going to be stuck with this Sentinel until she died, then it was in his best interests to make sure that took place sooner, rather than later.

It was this sentiment that remained pervasive in Michael’s memories up until he had finally succeeded in watching her zone to death right before his eyes. Then he had, with the calm sort of happiness that came with success long earned, carefully packed her body in a place far away from where they lived, and waited, content to face whatever consequences were coming his way – until, it seemed, Gavin and Nines had arrived on his doorstep.

Just another Sentinel dragging an android Guide wherever he pleased.

The thing that really stuck in his craw was that there very little that Gavin could do or say that argued against Michael’s perspective. While Michael’s actions had been cruel in the end, his anger had been understandable. Stripped of his autonomy, even when the Revolution seemed to grant it, Gavin thought that perhaps Michael had felt like he had had no other method of recourse. While a Sentinel had pinned her hopes on Michael, what was Michael supposed to hope for? That that military would recognize his desire for freedom and grant it? Even that seemed overly optimistic.

Gavin’s thoughts took a turn toward Nines, as it nearly always did. Once Gavin’s rating got evaluated, once their bond was legally recognized, what choice did Nines have beyond following where Gavin led?

“Hey,” he said, nudging his knee against Nines’s. “Promise me something.”

Nines raised a brow. “What is it?”

“Promise me that if you ever want to stop something – anything – you’ll let me know, and I’ll make sure it happens. Whether it’s stopping being a cop or… or not being my Guide anymore...”

Nines hummed. “What if I want you to stop ignoring the email from the Sentinel-Guide center that has your test results in it?”

Gavin bristled defensively. “I’m not ignoring it! Also I’m being serious. I don’t want you to be unhappy or feel like you’re stuck with me like Michael did with his Sentinel. I want you to know that you can do whatever it is that you want—”

“I am doing what I want,” Nines cut in. “I’m a detective, solving crimes, and I work with the person that I love. If I ever want more than that, I can get it.”

The unwavering confidence that Nines had was always a sight to behold. Gavin would be jealous of it if it weren’t so reassuring to see it right now. “You promise though?” he asked.

Nines leaned toward him, smiling softly. He brushed his fingers along the underside of Gavin’s jaw, drawing him in for a short, sweet kiss. “I promise,” he said, “as long as you look at your test results today. We’ve been waiting long enough.”

**

Getting tested and registered as a Sentinel hadn’t been difficult at all.

It had been a little bit weird to be sitting in a waiting room full of teenagers and their parents, but at least he hadn’t been the only adult in the room either. There had been what felt like a whole ream of paperwork, a blood test, and a series of aptitude tests, but none of it had taken longer than a day. The bulk of the time since had just been waiting for the results to come back.

And now he had them.

The results were in his email – a series of documents attached to a bland welcome email – and Gavin just couldn’t bring himself to look at them by himself. He’d broken over twenty years of near absolute secrecy with this move, and with it, came a boatload of labels that he wasn’t sure if he was ready to shoulder in its stead. What would they say about his level? Had his guess been at all accurate? What if they told him that he couldn’t stay with Nines despite their bond? What if, despite everything, he was still too weak to deserve Nines?

His fingers hovered over the screen as he pressed surreptitiously into Nines’s side for support. He wasn’t trying to be particularly subtle, but a wave of embarrassment still rolled over him when Nines pressed a kiss to his temple in encouragement. Gavin leaned into it greedily, swallowed down his fear, and opened the documents.

They read the results together. For Gavin, the charts and medical jargon were practically nonsensical. Nines, on the other hand, happily dissected them all, poking at the options in the charts until he found whatever data he found most intriguing and interpreting it out loud while his free hand dragged reassuring lines over the nape of Gavin’s neck. Gavin shivered under the attention and listened intently.

“Your blood test was positive for Sentinel markers, as expected,” Nines informed him, then made a quietly interested noise. 

“What?” Gavin peered up at him, worried. Nines’s finger was hovering over a particular spike in one of the charts. “What did does that result mean? Is that about my rating?”

Nines hummed, low, and his mouth dipped from Gavin’s temple to the shell of his ear. “It’s your hormone levels. Oxytocin, specifically. It seems you responded very well to bonding with me.”

“Oh,” Gavin breathed. “Yeah? You, um… you wanna verify that finding?” God, he was so easy.

Nines chuckled warmly. “Later,” he promised and scrolled to the next chart, which showed Gavin’s aptitude scores. “They said you’re a Level 5, by the way,” Nines said, still speaking close to Gavin’s ear. “Also, as expected.”

Gavin elbowed Nines in the side half-heartedly. “Jerk.”

Humming in agreement, Nines tapped his finger on the computer again and pulled up one of the results pages for Gavin to read. “They also said that your control is pretty good. Unless something happens that would expose you to greater stressors, you shouldn’t need to be bonded to a Guide.”

“Yeah,” Gavin said, reading that tidbit for himself. He pushed the computer away. The report felt wrong to his gut. “Shows what they know.”

“Gavin?”

He twisted around and flung his arms around Nines’s shoulders. “They don’t know what they’re talking about,” he said. “Sentinels. Guides. I would’ve bonded with you no matter what.”

Nines pulled him closer until they were cheek to cheek. His LED felt warm against Gavin’s temple. “I know.”

Gavin’s hold on Nines tightened for a moment. He whispered his confession quickly, embarrassed. “Love you,” before trying to withdraw.

Nines caught him around the waist and pulled him back. His Guide was never one to let Gavin run away from things – not anymore. “Hey,” he said. “I love you too.”

Gavin smiled.

There was really nothing good or bad that came of being a Guide or a Sentinel, but ...

Just being Gavin, that had brought him all the good he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!
> 
> or....


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't let this end without this one thing

**CODA 1**

The station threw a small party in honor of Nines and Gavin’s return. It was Tina’s fault, and the mixture of greetings they got when they joined everyone showed the crossroads of purpose behind it. Some people were glad that Gavin was returning to work. Some people congratulated them on their bonding. Some were celebrating that Nines was back from Cyberlife.

People were milling in and out throughout the day, and Gavin was too busy being happy with the cake, with Nines, and with life in general to be too busted about still being stuck on desk duty while he was waiting for his test results to come in. He didn’t even mind too much when Connor came over to threaten him a little over his intentions with Nines, though he was reluctantly forced to admit that the utterly pleasant smile on Connor’s face while he said exactly what he’d do to Gavin if he ever broke his brother’s heart was too terrifying to dwell on.

“Oop,” Tina said, knocking Gavin’s shoulder with her hip as she passed. “Heads up. Family incoming.”

Gavin and Nines turned together to the door of the break room.

There was Elijah. In fucking sweatpants and a blazer like the eccentric motherfucker he was. He had a gift box in his hands.

“Oh, shit,” Gavin blurted. Somehow, with the bond allowing Gavin and Nines to share almost everything else, he’d forgotten that there were some secrets that Gavin still had.

“Relax, he’s probably here for me,” Nines said as he got to his feet. “I’m sure he won’t threaten you on Cyberlife’s behalf.”

Gavin tried to grab Nines back and missed. “No, wait – fuck!”

“Mr. Kamski,” Nines said, holding his hand out to shake while Gavin nearly tripped over himself to catch up. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“Yeah,” Gavin said as rudely as possible, hoping Eli would take a fucking hint. “What are you doing here?”

Elijah smiled politely. “I did want to make sure that Nines was doing well. It’s been a while since we’ve had him in for a check up. I also wanted to give you this,” he said, bringing the gift box to their attention. “It’s one thing when you become a member of the DPD. That’s the natural order of things.”

Gavin couldn’t quite tell who that statement was for, between him and Nines, and that was probably the ambiguity that Elijah was aiming for by never quite speaking directly to either one of them.

“When you get bonded, however,” Elijah said, “that’s truly cause for celebration. I can’t let that go by unmarked.”

Gavin looked wide-eyed at the tiny box that Eli was cautiously holding out, and just as he was going to reach out to accept it, Eli shifted the direction of his attention. The gift was given to Nines instead. Nines didn’t hesitate in the same way. There was no reason to. As far as Nines was concerned, he was only dealing with the Father of Cyberlife.

When Nines opened the box, he made a soft noise of gratitude. “Thank you,” he said, closing the box again before Gavin could get a better look at it. It looked mechanical, whatever it was.

“It’s for you and Mr. Reed,” Elijah said. “I hope you enjoy it.”

“We appreciate it,” Nines said.

Elijah nodded, then glanced at Gavin. “Until next time, then,” he said, after a pause, and began to leave.

“Wait,” Gavin called out.

Elijah turned back, a brow raised.

Gavin sucked in a deep breath. He couldn’t quite believe that Elijah would have come all this way to give a bonding gift and still let Gavin keep their connection a secret. He was grateful and irritated all at once, but he also couldn’t let it stand anymore. He was utterly and completely done with secrets. Everyone knew he was a Sentinel. Everyone could know about this too.

“We should do this properly.”

Nines tilted his head to the side. Elijah straightened. Elijah’s serene expression took on a kind of satisfied edge. Gavin very quickly laced his fingers with Nines’s and bridged the distance between Nines and Elijah once more. Nines looked confused; it was precious. It was probably going to be the last time Gavin saw that expression for a while.

Gavin clutched Nines’s hand tightly with one hand while he waved the other toward Elijah.

“Nines, this my brother, Eli. Eli, this is my Guide, Nines,” he said. “Don’t make a scene, and for god’s sake, do not gang up on me.”

Nines froze, and Elijah smiled the same sort of terrifyingly pleasant smile that Connor had.

“Not to worry,” Elijah said. “I’m not going to threaten a detective in a police station, even if it is on my brother’s behalf.” He laughed. “Besides, I don’t think I need to, do I?”

Gavin groaned, hiding his face into Nines’s shoulder.

“You do not,” Nines said. He held his hand out for Elijah and they shook hands again. “It’s an honor to meet you at last.”


End file.
